Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin
by Charlie Quill
Summary: Just the simple, compulsive act of reaching out to snatch a letter from the air can change one's destiny, but not one's fate. AU, no slash, a retake on the Potter series. PG to PG-13
1. Chapter One: The Deputy Headmistress

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin 

Chapter One

The Dursley family, who lived at number four, Privet Drive, where the most normal people thank you very much. They were the sort of people you, or any other self respecting person, wouldn't dream of being involved in anything suspicious, strange, or odd. They just didn't hold to that sort of rubbish. 

But the Dursley's had one secret, and it was one they hoped no one would uncover. That secret was the Potters. Lily Potter was Mrs. Dursley's sister, and the two hadn't met or spoken in several years. You see the Potters where wizards. And as with most other 'abnormal' things, the Dursleys just didn't hold well with that sort of rubbish. So it was with an intensely grudging attitude that they were greeted with the sight of their baby nephew on their doorstep with a note. 

Immediately they had vowed to stamp out the kind of nonsense that separated Mrs. Durlsey from her ever so dear sister. Mr. Dursley sympathized with his wife. To a point. He, however, didn't want his perfect son mixing with that sort of child. And what would the neighbors think? Heaven forbid they learn of the Dursleys' abnormality! 

Nevertheless the boy would eventually have to attend school, most likely get a job, and live his own life. However on the upside, the sooner he grew up, the sooner he got his own life, the sooner he was out of their impeccably perfect hair. 

So it was with a surprising amount of normalcy that Dudley's birthday dawned bright and early to a young Harry Potter, curled up at the bottom of the stairs of Number Four on Privet Drive. 

"Boy!" the loud voice was slightly muffled by the small door to the closet under the stairs. Nevertheless the boy who resided there hear it loud and clear. Wiping his emerald green eyes sleepily the boy of mention sat up on his small cot and stretched. Messy black hair partially covered a peculiar scar on his forehead in the shape of a lighting bolt. 

Blinking back the light that poured though the small opening in his room as a silhouetted figure unlocked the view of the hallway.

"Come on then, get out here. I must have everything perfect for my Duddykins birthday" her voice was tight and shrewd.

"Yes Aunt Petunia." Came the still sleepy voice. Scrambling up out of his makeshift bed, Harry quickly stepped into the morning sun that bathed the small hallway in light. Following his Aunt into the kitchen he took up his usual place by the stove and began cooking strips of bacon.

When he was finished he watched in disbelief as Dudley complained at the fact he had five less presents than the previous year. He brought two immensely chubby hands to his eyes and feigned sorrow and anguish until in sympathy his mother reassured that he would be getting at _least _seven more before noon. And that was _before_ noon. 

Serving perfectly fried bacon strips with poached eggs and plate of kippers, Harry watched as Uncle Vernon entered the room, picked up a newspaper and took several long sips from his coffee. 

Uncle Vernon was a large, beefy man with virtually no neck and an impossibly bushy mustache. His face, a usually light shade of puce, was currently turning to a slightly lighter shade of red as he continued to read the headlines.

"These people don't know how to run the government!" he'd explain every so often, showing his wife a few articles here or there. Ignoring it all, Harry placed the last two, most burnt, strips of bacon on a plate, while chewing a stale crumpet left over from the day before. He watched with a sickening grimace on his face while Dudley stuffed kipper after kipper into his mouth, golden brown syrup dribbling down his five wobbling chins.

Later that same morning they all packed out to the family car to take Dudley and a friend to the zoo. Sitting, just short of squashed, between Dudley and a friend ('_cohort' _Harry thought sourly) in the back seat of Vernon's '98 Sedan was in all sadness _excited_. 

As they pulled into a parking place Harry took delight in being offered a balloon and a piece of candy by a thin woman wearing a uniform and a cheerful smile. Accepting with a small smile of his own he followed his relatives through the gates into the mass of people.

Harry knew his part in the whole mess; he was to stay several feet away from the Dursley's while they enjoyed themselves. If anybody asked, he was to say his parents where buying him an ice cream. Under no circumstances was he to reveal that he was there with the Dursley's. 

Shrugging his shoulders, Harry agreed to the terms and settled into a comfortable silence while observing the various creatures caged up. Moving behind the group inconspicuously Harry found himself inside the reptile exhibit. While watching a chameleon walk along a branch he could hear his cousin telling Uncle Vernon to get something moving. Bored, he glanced over and decided to have a closer look.

A snake, large enough to wrap several times around Dudley (which was saying quite a lot) was sitting amongst several discarded leaves and other assorted vegetation. Harry watched as Uncle Vernon stooped down, tapping the glass quite loudly while squinting at it shrewdly. Dudley, obviously upset at the snake's lack of movement, moved on to another creature's glass cage, shoving the current boy away roughly in order to get a better view. 

Harry turned back to the immense snake before him and sighed.

"Sorry about him" he nodded in his cousins' general direction. "I know how you feel, trapped like this. Everyone watching you. Creepy isn't it?"

Astonishingly the snake raised his head and stared at Harry for a moment with its lidless eyes before nodding of all things. Harry of course didn't know what to think about this.

"Can you hear me?" Again the snake nodded. "Can you understand me?" mentally he smacked himself. Of course the snake could understand him if he had just previously answered him! Nevertheless the snake mearly nodded. "Do you normally talk to humans?" This time however the snake shook his head. Harry nodded. After all, if he had been stuck in a small glass box he wouldn't feel very much like conversing with anybody or anything either.

"Look Daddy! The snake's moving!" Harry grimaced at the sound of his cousin's somewhat whiny voice. A moment later he was sprawled on the floor, looking up at the form of Dudley, nose pressed against the window in delight.

__

Should've expected that one he thought to himself, a flash of white-hot anger shooting through his veins. In that same moment a surprised Dudley fell though the glass with a yelp. Also, Harry noticed, the snake he had been conversing with was now outside of his confined area and was slithering on the ground around his feet.

If he hadn't known better he would have sworn he heard an almost whispered "thanksss" as the snake glanced at him and slithered away.

"Help! Help! Mummy!" Harry glanced back over his shoulder and bit his lip to stop himself from laughing in glee. Dudley Dursley was trapped inside the snake exhibit! 

Whilst the Dursley clan tried to figure out how to get 'dearest Duddlykins' out of his predicament, Harry entertained himself by sitting across the walkway watching the whole scene in delight. 

His mirth didn't last long. After a seemingly endless ride home, Vernon's sedan finally pulled into the Dursley driveway. Once inside the confines of their home, Vernon's face started turning an unusual shade of burgundy. 

"What did you do?" he asked Harry tersely. 

"I didn't _do_ anything" Harry confessed. "I was just standing there when Dudley pushed me over (Vernon gave his son a proud look) and suddenly the glass was gone. Like it was magic or something!" 

This appeared to be the very wrong thing to say, for Vernon shouted, "There is no such thing as magic!" With that said he pulled Harry up by the scruff of his neck and threw him into his closet. 

Harry listened as the lock on his door clicked into place and Vernon's steps followed his wife and child into the living room. Sighing to himself Harry briefly wondered why he had received such a strong reaction from his uncle for such a trivial thing. Unless there was such a thing as magic…

Settling himself on his makeshift bed the forgotten child pushed away such thoughts. There couldn't be a thing like magic. It was much too strange. But then again…

The unsettling thoughts swirled around in his mind for some time while he listened to Dudley open his presents in the other room. He wondered if all kids were like Dudley and himself. One child received everything while the other got nothing. 

Changing into another shirt (that once belonged to Dudley), he closed his eyes and willed back he dream he had been having that morning.

He had been flying over London, riding a motorcycle. 

~*~

A few weeks passed when one morning they were at the breakfast table when they heard the post arrive. 

"Go get the post, Dudley"

"Ah da! Why can't Harry get it?" Dudley whined.

"Go get the post, Harry"

"Why can't Dudley get it?"

"Hit Harry with your Smelting stick, Dudley" Ducking the expected smack, Harry winced when he felt it poke between his ribs. 

Dudley had been accepted to, what Vernon Dursely considered to be, the most prestigious school for boys. Each student was given a stick that the pupil in question could use to discipline anyone they wished. So it was with much enthusiasm that Dudley honed his punishing skills on Harry. 

Scooping up the mail, Harry shuffled through it until coming upon one particular envelope that caught his attention.

__

Mr. H. Potter

The Cupboard under the stairs

4 Privet Drive

Little Whinging

Surrey

Staring at the address, Harry glanced up at the hallway. This had to be joke.

The envelope was made of yellow parchment and heavy. The address was written in shiny emerald green ink, and there was no stamp. Making his way back to the kitchen in a daze he placed the other pieces of mail on the table and went to sit down. Dudley had other ideas.

"Look dad! Harry's got a letter!" he exclaimed whilst grabbing the letter out of his cousins' hands and handing it to his father.

"Give that back, it's mine, it's addressed to me!" Harry made a vain grab for the letter.

"Don't be ridiculous boy, who would write to _you_?" Vernon stated from behind the newspaper. He accepted the envelope and the newspaper went down in a snap.

"Petunia…" he said, his hand shaking slightly when he gave the letter to Mrs. Dursley.

Soon after (several moments), the two boys were first ordered then physically pushed out of the room. Silently fighting they decided (via Dudley's Smelting stick) that Dudley would listen through the keyhole whilst Harry crouched down to watch through the crack between door and floor.

"…It can't be!" That would have been Aunt Petunia.

"How did they know?" and that would be Uncle Vernon.

"Oh, Vernon, this could be bad! What should we do?" 

"We pretend like nothing has happened" and with that Harry watched in remorse as his letter took a tumble in the flames of the stove.

But whoever had sent the letter was persistent. Not only did a letter arrive for Harry the next day, but for every day after. Within the week Uncle Vernon had taken to boarding up the mail slot, and keeping the curtain on the window shut. But still the letters came.

One morning Vernon was looking unusually happy, reclined in his chair in the living room. "Boy" he said when Harry passed by the room to return to his cupboard. Stopping, Harry cocked his head toward his uncle. "Sunday is possibly the best day of the week, do you know why, boy?"

"Because there is no post on Sundays" Harry answered distastefully. 

Uncle Vernon grinned, "precisely"

Consequently, precisely two minutes later hundreds of later came spouting through the fireplace. Harry grabbed at various letters trying to grab hold of one. Holding one triumphantly in his fist he dashed off towards his cupboard. Like a shot his uncle was after him.

Leaping over and around various pieces of furniture Harry was moments away from the safety of his cupboard when he felt a beefy hand enclose around his waist. With a small thump he landed hard on the hallway floor, his uncle Vernon wrestling the letter out of his death grip.

Finally getting it away from his small nephew, Mr. Dursley grabbed the boy by the arm and shoved him into the cupboard under the stairs, locking it closed.

But Harry Potter wasn't stupid. While making a scene of himself grabbing a letter practically in front of his Uncle's nose he had discreetly shoved several letters up his shirt. 

It was these letters that he now had strewn about him, hiding all but three under his bed. Clicking on the light he tore open the envelope and began to read.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

__

Of WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

__

~

Headmaster: ALBUS DUMBLEDORE

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, and International Confed. Of Wizards)

Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. 

Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

__

Minerva McGonagall

Minerva McGonagall,

__

Deputy Headmistress

Harry stared at the letter dumbfounded. Wizards? Witches? A school for witches and wizards?! This was a whole lot to digest for young Harry Potter whose whole world revolved around Dursleys, bullies, a cupboard, and Dursleys. 

Pounding on the door of his cupboard he demanded answers about Hogwarts and wizards whilst shoving one of the various letters he had rescued up his shirt. Finally after a few minutes he could hear the lock on his door rattle, click, and the hinges squeak as it was opened.

Stepping out into the light of the hallway he confronted his uncle and demanded answers.

"Where did this letter come from? What is Hogwarts? Is there really such a think as magic? Am I wizard?" 

"Yes" this was from Aunt Petunia who was standing in the doorway, looking quite pale. She continued in her high, cold voice. "How could you possibly NOT be one of those…those…_freaks_. With my sister being what she was? She got a letter just like that (she motioned towards one of the letters he held clutched in his hand) then she went off to that school, coming back every holiday turning things into rats or quills. I was the only one in my family who understood her for what she was! A freak! But mum and dad? No, it was always Lily this and Lily that. They were SO proud to have a witch in the family. Then she met that Potter boy at that school of hers and married him after her seventh year. Then after all that she went and got herself involved with one of their wars, getting blown up and we get landed with the likes of you."

Harry of course was turning very white by now indeed. "Blown up? Blown up! You said they died in a car accident!" he accused, wondering why his world seemed strangely upside down.

"Of course we told you they died in an accident! We didn't want you mixing with that sort of thing. We figured if we could stop at least one we would be doing the world a favor!" Aunt Petunia was sounding oddly hysterical by now and Dudley was shooting everyone scared looks. As far as he could tell, his family had gone mad.

Slightly shaking, Harry stared at his aunt with something akin to disbelief mixed with anger. 

"Now, boy, don't get any ideas that'll you'll be attending that Hogwerts school-we'll not have any of that rubbish in this house!"

"Then maybe it's time I left this house" Harry said reflexively, almost regretting it. Almost.

"Oh you will now will you? And where will you go? To this school? You don't even know where it is" Vernon taunted, taking the letter from him and shredding it before his eyes. With that Uncle Vernon grabbed Harry by the scruff of his neck and dragged him back into the cupboard under the stairs. Tossing him he growled out "It would be good for you if you just kept telling yourself 'there is no such thing as magic'!" Harry blinked slightly as he was again cast into darkness. 

After being locked up in his cupboard except to wash and relieve him self, on the fifth day of his confinement the door to his "room" was opened and he was made to start breakfast. Afterwards he obediently sat in the chair that was provided him at his customary place by the wall. Watching them eat made him slightly nauseous, but he waited, the slices of bacon in his pocket cooling-beckoning him to quench his ravenous appetite. 

After the family was done they left and he quickly went to the table to nick a few bites of food. Careful of anything that would bring attention to its disappearance he made quick work of the smaller crumbs and bits left. Hearing footsteps he swiveled around and sat in his chair. 

Aunt Petunia walked in briskly, ignoring him altogether as she started a pot of tea. Before walking out she ran a cool, calculated gaze over the remains of her families' meal, obviously checking to see nothing was missing. Seemingly content she turned to regard, for the first time that day, the boy who sat in the chair awaiting instructions of what to do.

"Clean off the table, see that you take _nothing,_ little thief that I'm sure you are" she sniffed disdainfully. "And then the roses are looking a bit wilted, the grass needs trimming, and I want our driveway spotless. When you've finished with that clean Dudley's room"

"Yes, Aunt Petunia"

"Well don't just sit there, get to work!" obediently he jumped up and started clearing off the table, casting an admiring look towards a particularly succulent kipper as he threw it away. 

Later that evening he sat once again locked in the cupboard, listening as several spiders scuttled past his tired frame. After finishing Dudley's room he had scrubbed the walls, floors of the house, the kitchen ceiling, and all windows. He had finished well before supper had to be started so he had washed the windows again and finished lying down the tile in the bathroom. 

Exhausted he briefly wondered if anybody would remember it was his birthday tomorrow. Fishing around in his pocket for the scraps of bacon he had lifted from the kitchen that morning- savoring their taste, he wondered what birthday cake tasted like. 

DING-DONG

Harry paused mid chew, wondering who would be calling on the Dursley's this late at night. Before being shoved in his cupboard he had checked the clock. It had been several hours since then, he estimated that it was about half past nine. 

RAP RAP RAP

Apparently whoever it was at the door had forgone any sense of what the Dursley's considered 'decency' and had opted for pounding. 

"BOY!" Harry scrambled up and opened his closet door slightly, wondering why they hadn't locked it yet. "GET THE DOOR!" Uncle Vernon's voice was coming from somewhere upstairs, undoubtedly trying to make him self presentable, lest it be someone of importance.

A bit wearily he undid the lock and opened the door. "Yes?" he questioned what he guessed was probably a bit too brazenly, but was too tired and bitter to care.

"Is Mr. Dursley home?" the voice belonged to a woman. She looked about in her mid-fifties, her hair tied back in a tight bun, and was wearing some rather interesting clothes. As he met her eyes he saw something flit across her features momentarily before it was gone. 

"May I ask to whom is inquiring?" Harry was curious as to how the Dursley's knew this peculiar woman. Perhaps from Vernon's drill company, after all, there were quite a few interesting types coming from there. 

"Minerva McGonagall" the name sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place it.

"Who is it, boy?!" Vernon Dursley's callous voice carried down the stairs.

Looking back at the curious woman before him he gave a weak smile, "perhaps you should come in, I'll get them for you" Before he left she requested that Mrs. Dursely and himself meet with her as well. 

Racing upstairs he thought it odd anyone would want him in the room while they discussed anything with the Dursley's. Walking headfirst into his uncle he bounced back on to the floor slightly dazed.

"Well, who is it boy? No solicitors?" he asked suspiciously.

"No, her name is Minerva McGonagall and she would like to talk to you and Aunt Petunia in the living room."

Following his Uncle and Aunt down stairs he paused when they spun around and asked why he was coming too.

"Because I requested, Mister Potter be here as well" All three looked to the living room where their guest had poked her head out to join in the conversation.

"Mister Potter?" he murmured to himself. In a split second it all clicked. Shooting a hand in his left pocket he clutched one of the letters he had confiscated, and tore open the envelope. Eyes locked on the signature at the very bottom, he grinned. "You sent the letter from _Hogwarts_, you're the _deputy headmistress_!" 

Uncle Vernon was turning a lovely shade of puce. "What do _you_ want?" he questioned, obviously put off for putting so much effort into getting ready for someone he clearly didn't want to associate with.

"Answers, Mr. Dursley. I am Professor McGonagall at Howarts school for witchcraft and wizardry, and also the deputy headmistress, and I would like to know why Mr. Potter hasn't sent us a letter confirming whether or not he will be attending Hogwarts this coming term." Here she fixed her imperious stare upon Harry who was becoming increasingly conscious of his baggy clothes and messy hair. Swallowing uncertainly he shot his aunt and uncle impatient stares. Uncle Vernon was the first to speak.

"He will not be attending that freak school!" he declared. One really had to admire the colors Vernon was able to accomplish.

But the professor didn't seem to be able to quite grasp the concept of what the monstrous man was talking about. "But he has been accepted to one of the most prestigious magic learning schools in the country, in the world! We have the finest facilities, and outstanding curriculum, and the headmaster is one of the most well known wizards of our time!"

"I am NOT paying for some half cracked old fool who's fallen off his rocker to teach him magic tricks or-" but he didn't get to finish his line of thought, for the Professor had suddenly brandished a long, thin stick. Harry was puzzled as to why both his aunt and uncle both recoiled from the sight. But looking at the strange woman's face he wondered how the Dursleys could possibly still be standing. Of course, he already wondered this frequently about Dudley and Vernon, so he passed it off. What a strange woman.

"Albus Dumbledore is the finest, most competent wizard, muggle, and if you ever insult him again I may very well do much worse than this…" Harry watched with fascination as she said something sounding something like Latin and both his aunt, uncle, and cousin (who had come down for a just-before-bed snack and had probably heard all the commotion) were sent spinning across the room. Within minutes they were returned to their original places, cross-eyed and sweating but none the worse for wear. "Now, lets settle this business of Mr. Potter not attending school. Of all the rubbish! The very idea of Harry Potter not going to Hogwarts or any other wizarding institution is preposterous!"

"Why?" Harry dared to ask, eyes flitting from the stick in her hand and the Dursely clan huddling in the corner. "Why is it so preposterous that _I_ not attend Hogwarts?" He absent-mindedly wondered how all three of them (particularly Dudley and Vernon) could fit so well into that one corner.

"Oh dear, you don't know do you?" she fixed him with a look he wasn't familiar with, but what he guessed might have been either irritation or sympathy.

"Sorry" he answered to the former assumption.

"Sorry? Sorry! Ridiculous! Why should you be sorry? If it wasn't for these great muggles, I would have an acceptance letter from you and this night would never have happened. Sorry my foot!" She looked at Harry for a moment, and Harry had the sneaking feeling that she was considering him. "Perhaps we should save all this for the Headmaster to explain," she stated, pausing to readjust her spectacles. 

"I told you! I'm not paying for him to learn anything you freaks have to teach him! I won't tolerate it!" 

The woman looked very close to impaling him with her stick and he must have sensed this, for he eyed it with some trepidation and quieted some. "Mr. Dursley, I trust you will be relieved to find you don't need to pay for young Potter's schooling?" Uncle Vernon seemed to finally hear something worth listening to for he seemed to immediately shut up. "Furthermore your nephew (Uncle Vernon made a disgusted noise) will be staying at Hogwarts for the duration of the school year (both Harry and the Durselys perked up a little at this) with the exception of holidays which, of course, is completely up to you."

Harry fought hard to contain his grin. He wouldn't have to go back to the Dursley's! 

At the same time, it all seemed much to far fetched to be true. He glanced from the Deputy Headmistress slash professor, to his relatives back and forth anxiously. 

"Fine! FINE!" Uncle Vernon was still a deep puce almost violet, and Harry could see a few drops of sweat building up at the corner of his brow. "He can go! Just don't bring him back!" Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It really was comforting to know you had a solid family life. 

"Mr. Dursley, he won't come back until the summer term is over I can assure you"

Vernon seemed to be thinking this over and he curtly nodded, as if he himself had helped with her decision. 

"I'll send someone to pick him up tomorrow afternoon, he'll be needing his school supplies after all. Then I'll expect you to deliver him to Platform 9 ¾ on September 1. From there the Hogwarts Express will deliver him to Hogwarts for his schooling to start." 

The woman stared hard at Vernon Dursley, though he towered over her petite frame. Vernon only nodded his head which Harry more associated with an abnormal jerk. Perhaps a twitch. Whatever it was, the woman put her long stick away and with a polite farewell to the Durley's and Harry, was out the door. 

After Vernon was sure she was gone, he turned his enraged temper on Harry. Picking him up by the arm roughly, he threw him at the wall and opened the latch on the cupboard. Harry, dazed and sure his shoulder had been dislocated bit down on his lip as he felt Vernon pick him up and studiously drop him at the entrance to his room. But before he could pick himself up he felt a thick, heavy boot connect with his rib cage, hearing a sickening crunch. He hissed with pain, feeling the tears well up in his emerald eyes. Big, beefy hands picked him up of the floor and tossed him carelessly into the back wall of the dark cupboard.

Groaning, Harry lifted his head toward the light of the hallway and watched, as the door slammed closed. He heard Vernon fumbling with the lock, and grimaced when his grating voice penetrated the door. "That's what you deserve, boy, that's all your worth. You should have listened when I told you there was no magic. Worthless…" 

Harry didn't hear the rest of that sentence and he probably didn't care to. He was lost in his own dreams of flying over London on a broom with the Deputy Headmistress, the sound of a motorcycle in the background. Harry Potter had blacked out. 


	2. Chapter Two: Diagon Alley

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin 

Chapter Two

The next morning dawned what seemed to be much to early for young Harry Potter who lay in a huddled heap under the stairs. His Aunt Petunia was knocking furiously at the door, demanding he wake up that instant and serve them their breakfast. 

"Ungh?" he asked the world with his usual linguistic mastery. 

Groggily he rolled over to look at the small line of light that permeated his hole in the wall and slowly the light grew as the door slowly opened. He could hear the audible gasp as his Aunt stepped away from the door in disgust and horror. Ignoring her, Harry, without a second thought, struggled up into a sleepy slouch and shuffled into the kitchen. 

Dudley was crying about not having his breakfast on time, and Harry glared at him before taking his usual place at the stove. After a couple minutes the smell of bacon, and eggs filled the room, nauseating him to the point of pouring it all down the garbage disposal. Nevertheless he served each Dursely their meal before plopping down on his chair by the wall, and watching the whole repetitive scene with a sour grimace. 

Absent-mindedly he rubbed the side of his ribs where he had been kicked the previous evening. Curiously he didn't feel the burning pain as he had expected. Further prodding and feather light exploring provided the same conclusion. It seemed as if nothing had transpired from the night before. 

Unable to come up with a logical conclusion Harry stowed away this piece of information to analyze later. At that moment loud banging at the front door brought him out of his swirling thoughts and with a sharp look from his Aunt, went to answer the incessant knocking. 

"Hel-" Harry opened the door and the word died on his lips. 

He was easily upward seven feet tall, with a bushy beard and mustache that covered most if not all of his face. The girth of his waist must have equaled three Dudleys, and his arms were as thick as two logs. Wearing a coat made of various pelts and a hat that looked ridiculously small Harry thought he was the strangest sight he had ever seen, including Professor McGonagall. Two clearly visible black eyes that sparkled with life regarded Harry for a moment before his great face broke into a huge grin.

Harry barely had enough time to gather all this information together into one coherent thought before he was swept up in a bone-crushing hug.

" Harry!" he cried in a rumbling voice. "Last time I saw you, you was jest a baby! Now you're all growin' up! Off to Hogwarts! Lookin' jest like yer parents. Spittin' image of James, except for the eyes. They be from yer mother, Lily"

"Um, sir?" Harry gasped, trying to get as much oxygen as he could into his lungs. "Who…are you?" he managed to choke out.

"Eh? Oh, sorry 'bout that Harry, my name's Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts " to Harry's immense relief, the monstrous bulk placed him down on the Dursley's hallway floor. "Shoulda expected you not remembering me" he seemed to blush and Harry gave a halting smile.

"Err come in, Mr. Hagrid" he said, motioning toward the living room.

"Thank'ee, Harry, and call me Hagrid, everyone else does" he boomed, whilst trying to squeeze in through the doorframe which suddenly seemed very small. If Harry had ever thought it impossible to get Dudley through the door, those thoughts were now banished forever from every corner of his mind.

However, after much twisting and turning Harry watched as Hagrid finally managed to enter the small room. Hunched over and out of place, Harry could have laughed at the site Hagrid made in the Dursley's clean perfect home.

"I don't mean to be rude, Hagrid, but why are you here exactly?"

"Oh, didn't Professor McGonagall tell yea? We're to go and get yer schoolin' supplies today," he said brightly.

Harry mentally slapped himself. Of course! He had been wondering who the professor had meant when she mentioned sending someone to take him 'shopping'. He looked at Hagrid critically for a brief moment. "You're a wizard too?"

"Well…sort of," he said offhandedly, "I was sort er, expelled from Hogwarts myself." Harry's eyebrows raised considerably. 

"Expelled? How did you get expelled from a magic school? What did you do?" Hagrid scratched the back of his neck, and looked around the room for something to change the topic with. 

"So, are yea ready to go, Harry?"

"Yeah, just a minute" Harry raced back into the kitchen, coming to a halt just before entering. Calmly walking in he smiled sweetly at his aunt when she turned her hawk eyes glance upon him, obviously searching for something to criticize.

"Well? Who is it?" she asked curtly.

"Mr. Rubeus Hagrid, he's here to take me for my school things"

"Fine" came the blunt reply from behind a newspaper.

Harry left quickly before Vernon changed his mind and forced him into the cupboard again. Meeting Hagrid in the living room he watched in fascination as Hagrid once again managed to squeeze through the doorframe, back outside. 

"Follow me, 'Harry" The two walked for a few blocks before coming to a slightly shadier part of town. Ushering them down a dark, quiet street, Harry began to wonder about the mentality of his guide. 

"Um, Hagrid? Where exactly are we going?"

"Right here" Harry looked around, was this a joke? The street was deserted; a chill wind blew some trash across the street. Swallowing he was about to ask Hagrid where 'here' was, but was stopped by the sight before him.

Hagrid was holding a pink umbrella out in the middle of the street. Clearly thinking the man was off his rocker, he cleared his throat uneasily. What had he gotten himself into?

"Lumos" He spoke with clarity and ease, and Harry watched as the tip of his umbrella lit up. A second later here was a loud 'BANG' and a purple bus came careening out of thin air.

A man, possibly in his mid twenties hopped out and began talking to the both of them. "Welcome to the Knightbus, you're friendly way of transpiration in the Wizarding world. As easy as sticking out you wand and with a simple illumination spell, we'll illuminate your way home. I'm Sammy and I'll be your err…announcer. Now then, that'll be one sickle for you sir, and two knuts for the young lad"

Hagrid set to work, searching his coat pockets thoroughly before finally handing three coins to the man. As they were boarding Sammy suddenly put a hand on Harry's shoulder and peered closely at his face.

"You wouldn't happen to be Harry Potter would you?"

"Ummm, yes sir"

"Blimey! Look, Jake! It's _Harry Potter_! On _our _bus! Blimey!" he seemed to come alive and if he had been any younger Harry imagined he'd be jumping up and down fit to burst. 

"Come along now, Harry, got to get a seat. There's a boy" Harry followed Hagrid deeper into the bus and was amazed at everything he saw. At every window there were plush chairs, all as red as the outer paint of the bus. There were also small table stands with newspapers strewn atop them. Taking a seat across the isle from Hagrid he picked up one of the newspapers and began to read.

**__**

Dragons escaped from local zoo in Sydney

AUSTRAILIA, Sydney- Early Saturday morning three Black adder dragons escaped from Sydney's Scales. Their caretaker, Mr. Tops, assures the community that they are not man eating, but are quite docile…

Harry stopped reading, and instead stared at the headline again. Dragons? He shook himself. Of course there were dragons, if not wizards, why not dragons as well? He briefly wondered what other oddities he might encounter.

Turning the page he skimmed the headlines, drinking in the information he was provided. Turning yet another page he gave a startled yelp and jumped in his seat.

"Whot's wrong, Harry? You alright?"

"Yea, the picture it…it…the _picture_ _moved_" he exclaimed.

Hagrid chuckled. "Well o' course, these pictures weren't taken by no muggle camera"

"Muggle?" he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. He vaguely remembered Professor McGonagall using the term in reference to his relatives. 

"Non magic, usually referred to people who have no magic abilities. Like yer family, the Dursley's"

Harry snorted at the reference, but Hagrid wasn't listening anymore. Instead he was engrossed in an ad on the opposite page of what Harry had been reading. 

"Would yea look at that! Blast ended skrewts, selling fer half price!" Harry's eyes widened, but he refrained from asking.

Sporadically the bus would disappear with a loud 'bang' and the next instant Harry would be looking at entirely different surroundings. Soon, about four bangs later, they arrived in a side ally of London. Hagrid glanced up from his paper and grinned, black eyes sparkling.

"Let's go Harry" The great, bearded man picked up his jacket which he had previously cast over a chair, and made his way for the door.

Out in the fresh air, away from the confines of the small ally way, Harry could see various shops, their vibrant colors beckoning for him to come closer. Looking around wonderingly he followed Hagrid down various streets until coming to a stop in-between a clothing store and a bookshop. He recognized the clothing store as an expensive one that only sold the top quality brands. 

"Where are we?" he started to question but Hagrid was already walking toward a shady part of the corner and decided to follow. Soon enough he realized the 'shady' spot was in all actuality, a dusty, broken down pub by the name of the 'Leaky Cauldron'. If he hadn't been looking strait at it he might not have noticed it at all. 

The door creaked open slowly, and when he looked behind him at the other shoppers, they seem to not even notice the door or them. Inside the room was musty, and had an air of liquor and dust. There seemed to be a haze as if the dust itself had come alive, mixing with cigar smoke that drifted from somewhere in a far corner. He looked around and saw various people, or wizards as he was slowly learning, that were talking, laughing and in general socialism all throughout the pub. He also noticed that they were all wearing the same type of strange clothing that the Deputy Headmistress had been wearing. Long and flowing, something akin to a pajama robe or something that might have come straight from a mid-evil-esque movie.

Moving toward the bar, where a small man with a greying hair stood wiping mugs, Hagrid was throwing 'hellos' and various other greetings to people in the crowded pub. 

"Hello, Hagrid, how've things been going at Hogwarts?" the bartender queried, wiping a bowl with a rag. 

"Afternoon, Tom, things have been going fine. How about you? Business looks like it's hoppin' eh?" 

"Oh yes, it is. Who's this we've got here?" Tom leaned over the bar to take a closer look at Harry who had been standing quietly off to the side. "Why bless my soul, it's Harry Potter!"

The whole room quieted and Harry suddenly became very conscious of people turning in their seats to get a good look at him. Somewhere in the back of the room he could hear whispering, and a few gasps of surprise. Tom, seeming coming out of a daze, stretched out his hand and gave a toothy grin.

"It's an honor to meet you, Mr. Potter, I never in all my years thought this day would come." Harry shook his hand, not knowing what to say.

The next ten minutes were spent shaking the hands of various wizards and witches, some more that one.

"Welcome back, Mr. Potter, welcome back."

"Doris Crockford, Mr. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last!"

"So proud, Mr. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to meet you--- I'm all of a flutter!"

"Delighted, Mr. Potter, just can't tell you, Diggle's the name, Dedalus Diggle"

"I remember you! You bowed to me once in a shop!"

"He remembers!" cried Dedalus Diggle, looking around at everyone, "Did you hear that? He remembers me!"

Fifteen minutes later they were standing before a brick wall. Harry watched as Hagrid took the pink umbrella he carried with him, and touched it to the bricks. Suddenly, with a rumble the bricks leapt aside leaving the street open, filled with people dressed in what Harry guessed was 'wizard' clothing. Shops were crowded together on both sides of the cobblestone road and if Harry didn't know better he might have thought they looked smaller than normal physics would allow. But this was a wizarding community wasn't it? 

"Welcome, 'Arry, to Diagon Alley" 

"Um, Hagrid? How am I supposed to buy all this? I don't have any money"

Hagrid chuckled, a booming noise to be sure. "Well o' course you have money, 'Arry, you didn't think your parents left you nothing do you? First stop be Gringotts"

"Gringotts?"

"Wizard bank, filled with vaults, though it be run by goblins, mean things they are"

Harry's eyes went round as saucers and he gulped uneasily, "Goblins?"

"Course, nobody can steal anything from them, safest beings to hold yer money. Best not to cross 'em though, they can be down right nasty. Course, besides having to deal with Goblins, all the vaults are underground. Stretching miles and miles, no thief could possibly find their way out, even if they got in and retrieved their treasure."

Entering the tall doors, Harry followed Hagrid through the 'bank' staring at the sights in awe. Magnificent chandeliers were dripping with spider webs, casting an eerie glow of light over the dusty floor. Tall desks rose up on either side of him and he could see- odd, misshapen creatures with sharp eyes and ugly expressions. They all wore suits, specifically tailored to their height and shape. They had sharp teeth and were covered in horrible warts. Harry could now understand how nobody would want to steal something from the terrible creatures.

Shifting closer to Hagrid he peeked from behind the massive bulk carefully, gulping audibly. Finally they reached a high wooden podium on which was seated an especially frightening goblin whom was writing on various pieces of parchment. Seemingly satisfies with whatever he had working on he took a stamp and harshly marked the documents, sending them off with a younger goblin anxious to be off somewhere. The Goblin crossed his fingers and stared at Hagrid expectantly, "Yes?" his grizzled voice questioned.

"We've come to make a withdrawal from the Potter account" Here he motioned to Harry who was blinking owlishly at the creature before him.

"Does Mister Potter have his key?" the goblin had risen from his seat (or stood upon it) to look down at Harry who tried to disappear behind Hagrid when the beady eyes fixed their penetrating stare upon him.

"Oh! Yes…it should be around here…one moment…ah! Here it is" Hagird pulled out a small key that seemed as big as his fingernail. Giving it him he also pulled out a small envelope with a peculiar seal stamping it closed. "There is also a small matter, Dumbledore sent me for. Concerning-" here he cocked his head at Harry and lowered his voice and inched even closer. "You-know-what in you-know-where" 

Harry watched intrigued as he handed it over to the goblin, which nodded his head; they were soon set off with a younger goblin named 'Fragtag'. They were escorted to a cart and were soon on their way. They raced through tunnels, circles, and had near collisions with other identical carts. Hagrid, who was riding in his own cart (it was a tight squeeze to be sure) looked to be turning a sickly green and was quite relieved when they came to a stop in front of a large iron door. 

"Key", the goblin said, extending his hand expectantly. Hagrid obliged, and Harry watched as the door opened wide, granting him access. Peering inside with the help of the lantern he gasped. 

Piles and piles of glittering coins twinkled at him in the light, casting shadows on paintings and vases that were nearer to the walls. Hagrid handed him a sack and told him to fill it with several of each coin. Knuts: which were the bronze ones, Sickles: the silver, and Galleons: the gold. Filling the small sack he handed to Hagrid who placed it in one of his many pockets and they set off once again. 

Stopping in front of another iron door, much deeper than the last, the goblin placed his hand over a small opening and muttered something garbled under his breath. Harry watched, fascinated. They could hear the sliding and altering of the metal lock as it opened until the door finally swung open, revealing a singular small package. 

Harry looked at it, mystified at all the secrecy surrounding such a small thing, but like his training had drilled into him: he asked no questions. 

They made the ride back safe and sound, stepping into the clear air, thankfully. Hagrid patted his coat wear he held the odd package and leaned toward Harry.

"Best not to mention this to anyone, Harry" he whispered in his booming voice. Harry nodded and the both set off to collect his things.

After hours of shopping, a new set of robes, a miniature (school oriented) library, potions ingredients, and a pewter cauldron they settled in front of a purple and aqua marine shop that sold ice creams and other confections. Hagrid pulled out the list again and gave it a once over, stashing it back in one of his numerous pockets.

"Still got to get yer wand and yer birthday gift"

Harry choked. "Oh no, you don't have to do that, Hagrid"

"Nonsense, here you go across the street to get your wand. Yes there at Ollivanders, and I'll be along soon enough"

Harry nodded and set off for the narrow and shabby establishment. On the front, above the door peeling gold letters read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. In the window a single wand lay on a faded black cushion.

A tinkling bell rang as he opened the door and stepped inside. It was very small, and quiet dust covering everything in a very fine layer. Harry felt as if he had just entered a very strict library. All around him long thin boxed were piled up neatly right up to the ceiling. As he looked up at them the back of his neck prickled and every inch of him felt on edge. The whole place seemed to be filled with magic.

"Good afternoon" said a soft voice. Harry jumped, whipping around to face an old man standing before him. His wide and pale silver eyes observed the young boy, reflecting light like two full moons in the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," Harry said, shuffling his feet nervously. 

"Ah, Mr. Potter," the man said, recognition in his voice. "Yes, I wondered when I would be seeing you. You look just like you father, but with your mother's eyes. It seems just like last week they were in here, buying their first wands."

The old man advanced on Harry, his misty eyes never blinking. Harry took an unconsious step backwards, knocking into the spindly chair that resided by the closed door.

The old man seemed to ignore him though for he pulled out a measuring tape, queastioning, "Which is your wand arm?"

"Err…I'm right handed"

"Hold out you arm" Harry did so and Mr. Ollivander proceeded to measure the length of his arm, head, wrist and elbow to shoulder. "No two wands made here are the same, just as no two dragons, unicorns or phoenixes are the same" he was saying. Suddenly Harry discovered the measuring tape, which was measuring the distance between his eyes, was working alone! 

"That's enough," Mr. Ollivander called from behind a bookshelf like contraption, filled with long thin boxes. The measuring tape dropped to the floor and Harry stared at it in amazement. The old man reappeared a moment later carrying a box which he opened and presented Harry with a long dark wooden stick. "Cherry and unicorn tale. Eleven inches. Go one, give it a wave"

Feeling rather foolish Harry gave it a wave but it was almost immediately snatched out of his grasp replaced with another.

"Ebony and phoenix feather. Nine inches. Rather flexible"

But again, almost as soon as Harry had it in his grasp it was taken out again, replaced with another. They continued like this for quite some time, the pile of wand on the spindly old chair steadily growing. But with each wand that didn't seem to 'fit', Mr. Ollivander only seemed to become even more excited.

"Tricky customer, eh? Don't worry, we'll find the perfect one for you. Try this. Willow and Norwegian Ridgeback heartstring. Twelve inches, quite firm. Nope! Afraid not…hmmm…I wonder, now…the old man had his back turned toward him but he seemed to pause and stare at the box in his hands for a moment longer that usual. His silver eyes gave him a sidelong glance as if sizing him up, an odd twinkle peering out from within their depths. "Sure, why not" he took out the wand and handed it to Harry stating, "Holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple-unusual combination though"

The minute the wand was in his grasp, Harry could feel a sudden warmth in the tips of his fingers, spreading throughout the rest of his hand. He raised it above his head and brought it down, swishing through the dusty air and a stream of sparks shot from the end like mini fireworks, throwing spots of light on the gloomy walls. 

Hagrid had watched the whole thing, having entered unnoticed. As the various colors shimmered and died away Hagrid clapped his two massive hand, whooping excitedly.

"Bravo, yes indeed, very good! Well, well, well…," he stated, the strange gleam coming back into his eyes, "How very curious, oh yes, very curious indeed"

"Excuse me, but _what_'s curious?"

Mr. Ollivander fixed Harry with his piercing eyes.

"I have sold many wands in my time, Mr. Potter. Every single one of them I remember. Both what they were and who I sold them to. That feather in you wand belonged to a phoenix who only gave two feather, only two. It is curious indeed that you should have been chosen by that wand, when it's brother, gave you that scar."

Harry swallowed uneasily under the other man's pale stare.

Harry paid for the wand and followed Hagrid out onto the busy cobblestone street. For the first time he noticed a covered object, swinging from the giant's hand.

"Hagrid?"

"Eh?"

"What's that?" he pointed to the dark blue material.

"Blimey! Almost forgot," Hagrid said, uncovering a cage containing an ebony black owl, with intelligent amethyst eyes, flecked with gold, "Happy Birthday, Harry"

Harry was speechless. He stared at the owl in awe. It was beautiful! "Thank you" he finally stated, eyes still fixed on the sleeping owl. 

Later that night Harry sat in his room, contemplating everything that had happened. Just last night he had been flung into a cupboard, this night he was reclining on a battered old mattress in an actual room. It was filled with Dudley's old broken toys, which Harry had piled in one corner. His new school stuff, trunk and all were sitting by his desk and his ticket for the Hogwarts Express was safely tucked in his pocket. 

Looking up at the plaster that had begun to peel, Harry sighed, contented. All he had left was to wait out the month till September and he would be home free. 

Augusta, as he had chosen to call the black owl, was preening his feathers on the desk occasionally watching Harry as he sorted through his Hogwarts things. Harry marveled at the beauty and power of him. His first birthday present! He smiled and the owl gently nipped at the tip of his fingers. 

Opening the window he watched as the owl took off, soaring through the sky in search of his meals. He watched him for a while before returning to his bed, looking at the piece of paper he had attached to the wall to mark of the days until September. Only one more month. 

~

Ok, I know I didn't really make it all to clear, but Harry's magic healed him. In the Potter series it talks about how when Harry was little he could make things happen when he really wanted them to, so subconsciously his magic healed him while he was sleeping. Aunt Petunia was just being repulsed the next morning because it was her nephew and she hates him. Perhaps there was the remaining stench of blood and vomit, but that's up to you to decide. 

Someone said Snape should have picked him up? Well I thought about it and really REALLY wanted to do that, but Hagrid seemed the most likely candidate. After all, the professors have syllabuses and other such nonsense to worry about! I just did the McGonagall scene because she was the Deputy Headmistress and seemed like the one to deliver the letter in response to it being ignored or some other such problem. 

I know how many of you like Hedwig, but I figured this just fit better. If it makes you feel better, she'll make appearances at Hogwarts as someone else's owl… I have to say though; I REALLY wanted to give Harry a bat. I don't know why, but it would be awesome to have given him a bat. But, alas, it stated specifically that the student was to bring an owl OR cat OR toad.

Hmmm…maybe I'll give Snape a bat…


	3. Chapter Three: Counting down the days

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin 

Chapter Three

It had been several weeks since his venture into the wizarding world, and Harry was hungry for more. For the first few mornings he would wake up with a start and think he had imagined the whole thing, only to discover his trunk sitting by the desk, and his owl staring at him. He would pull out his wand and run his fingers over it, hardly believing his eyes. Every day he pulled out the single ticket for the 'Hogwarts Express' and inspected every inch of it.

The Dursleys had been surprisingly civil since his return. Well, more civil that was natural for them. They, for the most part completely ignored Harry, which in Harry's opinion was quite the improvement. They sill ordered him to do things, but not nearly as much as they had before. He was now permitted to eat meals at the table, not that this was particularly a good thing. Vernon would turn a pale shade of violet and refuse to acknowledge his presence; Petunia would sniff dismissively; fawning over her 'Duddykins' and Dudley himself would simply eat his meals, glare at Harry, and if possible, steal Harry's meager morsels. Finally, giving up with the whole family Harry would take his meals up to his room and study his new books.

He found them fascinating. Potions, Charms, Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Care of Magical Creatures, and History of Magic. Each topic opened another door into the strange world he had never known, providing an ample amount of information. Drinking it all in with every page he switched from one book to another. Late into the night he would sit on his bed and with the light falling through his window he would read. Charms and Transfiguration held his interest for a little while but he soon grew bored and moved on. Potions he found particularly captivating. There were brews to alter one's hair color, skin color, even the eye color. Ingredients that contained magical qualities only found in certain areas of the world. Each potion required perfect timing, and precise instruction. 

Once finished with the potion book he cracked open his Defense text, soon growing bored after the third paragraph. It was a complete guide for a stone found in the belly of a goat. Casting it aside he skimmed the headings of the Care of Magical Creatures and History of Magic before flipping off the light and crawling under the covers. 

The next morning his aunt's shrill voice broke into his dreamless sleep, waking him instantly. 

"Well are you going to lay there all day? Get up, you have work to do!" with that the horse-faced woman left, heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

Sitting up, Harry slid on his glasses and blinked back the morning light. Changing his clothes he scrambled down the stairs, chiding himself for sleeping in. What if he had been at Hogwarts? Would he have been expelled for being late to class?

Making breakfast he slipped a few pieces of bacon into his pockets with half of a cold biscuit. After breakfast, he was given his list of chores and sent to work.

By late afternoon Harry was exhausted. He had cleaned the bathroom, kitchen and Dudley's bedroom; washed the car, the driveway and windows; weeded and watered Petunias garden; and now had to repaint the garage door and house. 

Paint brush in hand Harry stepped back to observe his handiwork, he had managed to paint about half of the garage door, but was much to short to reach farther up. He had rummaged around for a ladder, but the only one he had found had a broken leg. He tried to open the door; maybe a chair would help.

Vainly turning the handle he stepped back and muttered under his breath. The Durlsleys were all out, and had apparently seen fit to lock all the doors. Perfect. Harry didn't know what to do. He couldn't very well _leave_ the garage door like that, but he couldn't find any way to finish it. Suddenly his eyes rested on a broom in the far corner of the garage. He bit his lip uneasily but seemingly making up his mind, Harry made a wild grab for it.

Making sure the bristles were cleaned thoroughly with the garden hose, he dipped the broom in paint and made an upward sweeping gesture. 

Shoulder's aching, paint droplets covering him head to toe, Harry reclined under the shade of a tree, thankful for the short rest. He had finished the garage door, as well as a good portion of the right side of the house. His oversized shirt clung to his small frame, but he was too tired to bother with it. He could see the twilight begin to appear, the warm sun receding into the west. 

Why the Dursleys weren't home was beyond him but his stomach growled at him reproachfully. Digging into his pockets he pulled out the pieces of breakfast he had stowed away for emergencies. Devouring the meager bits of food he watched the last rays of sun finally disappear. 

A car could be heard coming down the street, its headlights reflecting off of Harry's glasses. Recognizing the familiar company car Harry stood and approached the driveway, shielding his eyes from the light. The car parked and two forms emerged from under the hood; an extremely beefy man and a thin horse faced woman. 

"Boy! Why isn't this house finished? I thought I told you to finish your chores by the time we came home!" Vernon was turning a deep scarlet and Petunia's lips had completely disappeared. She grabbed his arm in a vise-like grip, dragging him to the front door.

"After we took you in and provided for you…we fed you, gave you clothes, put a roof over your head and this is how you replay us? Think you can just skip out on your chores, ignore your betters. I thought we taught you better manners…" on and on Aunt Petunia ranted until they were inside. 

Sent to his room without dinner and a vibrant red mark across his left cheek Harry picked up a book to read. Opening the front flap he caught his train ticket as it fluttered out. He read it again but instead of the usual smile in his face when he thought of Hogwarts he frowned. He sat up on his bed and read the ticket carefully. This couldn't be right.

~

HOGWARTS EXPRESS

Platform 9 ¾ 

King's Cross Station, London

Admit One

~

Platform nine and three-quarters? That couldn't be right, there was no such thing. He remembered going to the train station with Petunia and Dudley to see Vernon off on a business trip when he had been very young. There had been platform nine and ten, but he couldn't remember a nine and three-quarters. The Station presented yet another problem. How was he to get there? He groaned. All this time for nothing!

With both his relations as unhappy with him as they were it would be almost impossible to get a ride to King's Cross! Flinging himself onto his broken down mattress he ran through possible ideas of how to get a ride. Thinking until his uncle pounded on the door for Harry to turn his lights out, the boy stroked the feathers of Caesar, as he had decided to nickname him, long into the night, thinking. 

The next day at eleven o'clock a car pulled up to the Dursley home, Dudley Dursley stumbling out with his eyes full of sleep and his blonde hair mussed. The enlarged boy waved as the car pulled away, a figure in the back seat waving in return. Dudley shuffled through the front door, oblivious to his cousin's watchful stare. 

The minute the front door closed, Harry crept to the door and listened for the footsteps on the stairway. Opening the door nonchalantly Harry ran a cool gaze over Dudley's expensive clothing. "What ARE you wearing?" he remarked, disdain dripping off his tones.

"What do you mean?" said Dudley, chancing a look down his front. His shirt alone was worth a good fortune, a company brand name plastered all over the front.

"You _do _know that, _that _particular brand is out of season? It's that new brand that is all the rage, now. I'm surprised you had the courage to actually _go_ to a sleep over with those clothes. If you continue like this, you'll be the laughing stock of Surrey." Harry drawled, watching from the corner of his eye as his cousin took the bait.

As if on queue the obese child's eyes widened considerably and with a shout he proceeded to run down the stairs, calling out, "MUM!" Dudley wailed, his numerous chins waggling with every pronunciation. "_I NEED NEW CLOTHES_!" 

Smiling with satisfaction Harry could already hear his aunts' voice, trying to calm her Duddikins. "But, sweetie pie, what is wrong with the clothes we bought you last week?"

As Dudley began again on how he was the laughing stock, and nobody loved him Harry quietly returned to his room, satisfaction etched in every fiber of his being. 

It was much later that afternoon when he was permitted to come downstairs and finish painting the rest of the house. By that evening Harry still hadn't finished but the Dursley's were much too distracted to care very much. Vernon had received a raise and Petunia was filled to the brim with the latest gossip around the town.

Relieved that no one was particularly upset at him over anything and that he had managed to escape scrutiny, Harry cleaned himself up before dinner, running his plan over in his mind for a final time. 

"Uncle Vernon?" Harry asked politely when there had been a lull in the conversation.

"What is it?" Harry mentally breathed a sigh of relief at not being addressed as 'boy'. 

"I was wondering if I could get a ride to King's Cross station on Tuesday."

"What for?"

"I need to catch the train to school."

Uncle Veron's eyes seemed to cloud and his visage darken, but the next moment he glared at his dinner and ground out, "You can accompany Petunia and Dudley when they go shopping." 

"Thank you, Uncle Vernon." Harry inwardly whooped for the victory, careful not to allow the grin to surface on his face. 

The next couple days Harry avoided as many confrontations as possible, completing his chores to the best of his ability, taking the verbal and sometimes physical lashings with acceptance. He praised each hour as it passed, because each was leading him closer to the proverbial heaven. 

Finally the day had arrived. Harry could have exploded with excitement and unease. What if nobody liked him? What if he was expelled? What if…

The thoughts continued until Aunt Petunia rapped sharply on his door for him to awake. Masking his excitement with sleepiness and indifference. 

The morning routine played itself out as usual. Harry made breakfast and saved the worst for himself. Afterwards he cleaned the kitchen thoroughly, keeping a sharp eye trained on the clock. It was almost after ten when Petunia came into the kitchen as Harry was scrubbing the oven. Her arms were folded and she had a less than pleasant look on her face. 

"You better clean up and change, Dudley and I are leaving soon." 

"Yes, Aunt Petunia." Harry put the cleaning things away, rushing up to the bathroom to wash away the smell of cleaning solution. 

Cleaned, changed, and packed, Harry was dragging his Hogwarts things down the stairs, straining with all his might. A bruise on his left flank was burning and he bit his lip so hard it turned white. Several minutes later he was out the door and in the car. 

"It's about time. If you had dawdled any longer, you might have missed the train, then where would you be?" Aunt Petunia's voice grated on his already taunt nerves. 

"I wasn't dawdling, Aunt Petunia. The trunk is heavy."

"Don't talk back to me or I might miss the turn to King's Cross. Mind you I wouldn't even be driving you if Dudley wasn't in need of new clothes. My poor Dudders…"

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Dudley needed new clothes like he needed another chin. Dudley seeing the beginnings of smirk on his cousin's face stuck out his leg and effectively quickened him hard in the shins. Harry sucked in a breath of air and glared at his obese relative. 

"What was that Dudley? Did you say something?"

"It was Harry, mum." Dudley whined.

"Was he doing anything to you, Duddikins? Did he hurt you?"

"I didn't do anything to him! He kicked me in the shins!" Harry stated, feeling a bruise starting to form.

Aunt Petunia made a right turn and didn't _seem_ to hear what Harry said. Not-so-soon enough, they arrived at the train station.

~

Harry is already showing signs of being devious…

ZeonReborn: ^_^ 

HecateDeMorte: Yay!

Dracoqueen456: * suspenseful music plays *

Serpent of Light: The bat thing is still pending I have an idea that would be humorous and the Weasel (wink) twins would be involved. That Irony name thing is a splendid idea.


	4. Chapter Four: The Hogwarts Express

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin 

Chapter Four

Crowded was the first thing to come to Harry's mind as he ambled through the train station. People were everywhere around him, talking, laughing, crying, running, walking and skipping. 

He pushed through the crowd determination etched in his mind. He could see platform nine approaching with each step. Passing it he discovered platform ten and backtracked. Platform nine. 

This couldn't be good.

His stomach churning with nervousness Harry asked the location of the Hogwarts Express from a passing guard wearing a smart uniform, hat set primly on his head.

The guard gave him a stern look and was about to walk away when Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one and walked away muttering about pranksters. 

His mind racing for possible ways this could be a joke, or otherwise elaborate dream, Harry didn't realize he was staring at the barrier between nine and ten. This was soon amended when he noticed that people were appearing in front of the barrier. 

"Bloody hell…"Harry muttered watching as several more people appeared out of nowhere and start walking away.

Gripping the cart with clenched fists he approached the barrier warily and with a deep breath charged through. His eyes squeezed shut Harry braced for the collision but surprisingly he kept walking on firm ground. Eyes fluttering open he found a scarlet red steam engine waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign on his left read 'Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock'. Behind him where the barrier had been he saw a wrought iron archway with the words 'Platform Nine and Three-Quarters' on it. He had made it.

Harry noted that the majority of the students had already boarded the train and he pushed his cart through the crowd quickly. Finding an empty compartment at the end he lifted Caesar up first and struggled with his trunk. Setting it down in defeat he looked around for someone who might help. 

"Need help there?" A boy Harry's age with slicked back blonde hair and pointed features asked.

"Yes." Harry was so relieved to find help he didn't notice the other boys eyes rest momentarily on his hair line. 

"Crabbe, Goyle! Get over here. Put this trunk in the compartment."

Harry watched as two boys, bulky and somewhat mean looking came forward and lifted the trunk into the compartment easily. 

"Thank you." Harry said, turning to the blonde boy who was giving him a calculating look. 

"I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." The blonde stuck out his hand.

"Harry Potter." Harry took the boys hand and they shook, studying each other with interest.

"This is Crabbe and this is Goyle, if anybody gives you trouble…" Draco didn't need to finish for Harry to understand. The two intimidating boys were thickset and resembled bodyguards, thought neither appeared very smart. 

"I'll keep that in mind." Said Harry, unsure of what to think of the gesture. 

"Come on then, I'll introduce you to my father." The platinum haired boy led Harry around the chattering crowd towards a tall, powerful looking man in wizarding robes. 

"Draco? Why are you not on the train?" The man had long blonde hair and striking grey eyes like his son. He had a walking stick in his gloved hand and carried himself like royalty and arrogance. 

"I wanted to introduce you to my friend, father. This is Harry Potter. Harry, this is my father."

"Lucius Malfoy, Mr. Potter."

"Nice to meet you." Said Harry accepting the offered hand. 

The two looked into each others eyes for what seemed like an eternity to Harry but was in fact only half a minute. In a battle of wills Lucius suddenly smiled, a strained expression if Harry ever saw one, and dropped the boys hand. 

"Like wise, I'm sure." The older Malfoy inclined his head gracefully, Harry returning the gesture albeit a little more clumsily. 

The two young wizards-in-training took their leave and boarded the train, eager to be off to school. Once they chose a compartment and were seated, the Malfoy boy stretched out over the booth like seat and did all but dismiss his two bodyguards. 

"What house do you suppose you'll be sorted into?" he drawled, eyes half-lidded boredly. 

"No one knows until after the sorting." Harry looked out the window as the train lurched and started down the tracks.

"I bet it'll be Ravenclaw, if not Slytherin, for you that is. For me it'll be Slytherin, sure as I'm sitting here. My whole family has always been Slytherin of course."

Harry honestly couldn't care worth a Knut, but knew it was polite to listen anyway. Besides, he might learn something useful. 

"What about you, Harold?"

The raven haired boy seemed intrigued at the reference but didn't say anything against it. He had never been called anything but Harry by his teachers, or boy by his relations. This was getting to be a whole knew experience for him.

"I don't know. I've heard my parents were Griffindor, doesn't seem that bad of a place to be sorted into."

Draco snorted. "I've heard about Griffindors…" he trailed off for a moment but seemed to shake whatever he had been thinking of off and continued, "But I suppose it can't be as bad as being sorted into Hufflepuff."

"What would be bad about that? They're friendly, trustworthy."

"Trustworthy? Too trust worthy if you ask me. They're naïve and childish." The young Malfoy's voice dripped with disdain as he sneered.

"And Slytherin has no faults? They are crafty and sneaky, they slink around in the shadows…"

"But not a truer friend you'll find! Once you've weeded out the bad apples-"

"Or snakes."

Draco inclined his head, "Alright, I'll play your game. Or snakes. Once you've rooted them out you can find friends. Good ones, ones who'll stick by you no matter what."

"Game? I never play games."

"We all play a game."

"You call life a game? Quite a philosopher for your age, don't you think? Perhaps you'll be the one sorted into Ravenclaw."

Draco snorted again, "Ravenclaw? They may be smart, but so rooted in their studies so as not to notice danger around them? They aren't smart in everything. They'd have a spell cast at them and be so entranced at wanting to know the effect, they wouldn't care if it was new killing curse."

Harry turned from watching the scenery fly by and listened to Draco with interest, "And Griffindor? What are their faults?"

"They are loud, obnoxious."

"Brave, and courageous."

"Bravado and show."

"True of heart…"

"A heart they refuse to protect."

"And Slytherin protects their heart?"

"Like a coiled snake. Slytherin would rather strike first then be hurt."

"But with so much protecting they never experience happiness and love. Joy and sadness."

"Who wants to experience sadness? It is a weakness."

"Slytherin's strength is also its weakness. Every house's strength is its weakness." Harry concluded the conversation just as a plump woman walked by the door and asked if they wanted anything. Harry's stomach grumbled but he wrinkled his nose at the sweets. 

Draco refused and stared at Harry for a moment. "You're nothing like I expected."

Harry could feel a blush pinch his cheeks and he swallowed nervously. "I'm still getting used to this whole 'boy-who-lived' thing…"

"No no, I meant it in a good way. I thought you would act more…_Griffindor_, from what I've heard of you anyway."

Harry honestly wondered what the platinum haired boy could have heard about him. He'd been locked up with the Dursley's his whole life. Maybe he'd been spied upon by the wizarding world and hadn't known it. He decided against the thought though, if they had know how he had been treated wouldn't they have handed him over to their people? Filing away the thought for later Harry tuned into what the other boy was saying.

"…father attended Hogwarts about the same time your father did. James was his name wasn't it?"

"Hm? Yes."

"Well my father says your father was part of a group that labeled themselves the 'Mauraders' and they used to terrorize my godfather. I suppose he isn't going to pleasant around you, I heard him talking to my father a few weeks ago. He kept muttering about the 'Potter child' and I guess he was meaning you."

"Why would I be around him? Does he teach at the school?"

Draco looked proud, "Yes, he's a potions Master though I think he fancies the D.A.D.A. job. Pity that rat Quirrel got it."

Harry looked at Draco with interest, "Potions? I love potions. Did you know there is a potion you can change a person's skin colour with? It's fairly simple to make as well."

"Is it in our text book?"

"No, I picked up a few extra books to read when I went to get my school supplies."

"Wicked, perhaps if you're sorted into Slytherin…" A mischievous glint lighted in Dracos' youthful gaze and the two made an unspoken agreement. 

Soon the two were changed into their Hogwarts robes and skimming the pages of Harry's 'extracurricular' books. A girl with bushy brown hair, and crooked teeth opened the compartment door and looked around, not meeting the eyes of the two boys. Seemingly satsified that what she was looking for was not in fact there she met the eyes of Draco and sniffed.

"A boy named Neville has lost his toad, you haven't seen it have you?"

"I'm looking at it." He replied coolly. Harry gave him a disapproving look before answering.

"No, we haven't. Perhaps you should change into your robes, we're almost there."

Shifting her icy glare from the Malfoy child to Harry she sniffed again and drew her lips into a thin line. "Yes, I know. I've just come from the conductor's place. He said as much as well." With another look at Draco the girl closed the door and continued down the hallway. 

"Five sickles says she's a Griffindor." Quipped Draco as he stared at the closed door with a scowl.

Harry sighed and folded his arms. "You weren't very nice to her."

Draco wrinkled his nose, dismissing the matter. 

REVIEWS~

Molly Morrison: Well I'm not sure how he knew, mayhap it was wizards intuition? Maybe cause the store was closed for a couple days, I dunno. I forgot that detail. *bangs head against wall * Bad author!

Padawan: *cackles gleefully * This is so much fun!

HecateDeMort: * dramatic sigh * I know…

Serpent of Light: Thank you, you are awsome. 

SlythCat19: You're a quick one! ^_^

Freshly ground COW: So sorry it took so long to post up this chapter! I have a life and it takes up most of my free time 

*sigh * Glad you liked it!

Tati1: I trust you have never heard of Caesar Augusta? He was an old Roman king I think. I'm not sure, I've got my Bible and History all mixed up. @_@ So it's both, formally Augusta. And for short, Caesar. 


	5. Chapter Five: You're Simply Slytherin

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin

Chapter Five

"Firs' years over this way. Firs' years, follow me!" Harry immediately recognized the huge mass that was Hagrid. "Hello, Harry! Doin' alright there? Firs' years over here!"

Harry waved, falling in line behind a girl with pigtails and a pink face. Together the mass of first years followed Hagrid to the docks where they clambered into boats by fours, excepting Hagrid who had one to himself. The water was murky, almost black except for the dim lights reflecting off the surface from their lamps.

"I hear there's a monster in the lake." A girl in the next boat over whispered to someone on her right.

After passing through a curtain of ivy the boats were docked and everyone climbed out. A frog croaked and Hagrid bent to pick it up off his giant work boots.

" 'Ere now, who's lost a toad?"

"Trevor!" A boy with a round face came forward holding his hands out gleefully.

"Right then. Everyone here?" Hagrid turned around and raised a great fist, knocking three times on the castle door.

The door swung open, revealing a tall black haired witch. She was stern looking and wore rich green robes trimmed with gold.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Harry recognized her as the Deputy Headmistress that had visited his home several weeks before.

Pulling the door open wide Harry got a good look at the empty entrance hall. It was large enough to fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in and lit with flaming torches. The ceiling stretched for a mile or so high, and a grand staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

Following Professor McGonagall across the stone floor they were led into an empty chamber of the hall where she turned and watched them crowd in.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before your take your seats, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting ceremony is very important because while you are here your house will be your family.

"You will eat at your house table, sleep in the house dormitory, have classes with your house mates and spend free time in your house common room. You will earn points for your house with your accomplishments and lose points with your misdemeanors. At the end of the term your points will be counted up and compared, the house with the most points earns the house cup. The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.

"The Sorting will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of school. I suggest you smarten yourselves as much as you can while we are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber.

"How are we sorted?" asked a boy with sandy hair and dark eyes.

"Some sort of test. Fred said it hurts a lot, but he was joking. I think." Harry looked around for the speaker; eyes resting on a boy with flame red hair and freckles. A smudge of dirt was on his nose.

Harry's stomach did a strange flip-flop as it sunk in. A test? And in front of the whole school no less! He silently groaned. Looking around though he found that the other first years looked quite pale as well. The girl with bushy brown hair was whispering furiously to herself, listing all sorts of spells she had studied and what she would need and if she should have looked up certain spells in books Harry had never even heard of.

A girl with long dark hair behind him screamed quite suddenly and he jumped several feet in the air, whipping around wand ready in his robes.

"What the-?"

He almost smiled. Several people around him gasped. Almost twenty pearly white, transparent ghosts streamed through the back wall, gliding across the room. They were all talking to each other and hardly noticed the terrified first years below them. A tremendously obese monk was saying: "I still say we ought to let him attend. Forgive and forget you know-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances that is normal? Not to mention all that he deserves. He's given us all a bad name you know and- I say! What are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing something akin to the renaissance had finally noticed the students below him and swooped down to get a better look.

"We…We're h-here to be So-So- Sorted!" sputtered a tall black boy standing next to the red headed boy who had spoken earlier.

"Splendid! About to be sorted, I suppose?" Several students nodded meekly.

"Good good, hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a familiar sharp voice. "The Sorting is about to begin." Professor McGonagall had returned and watched to see the ghosts disappear one by one through the opposite wall. "We're ready for you. Form a straight line and follow me."

Harry silently started praying to every known god he could possibly think of, his legs feeling like a mixture of lead and gelatin. They were led out of the room and through the entrance hall and a pair of double door into the Great Hall.

The young Potter child had never imagined such a wonderful and strange place. It was lit by tens of thousands of candles that were held in mid air over four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were littered with glittering plates and goblets, complete with golden forks, spoon, and knives to match. At the front of the hall was fifth long table were the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led them to the front and turned them around to face the students, the professors behind them. Hundreds of faces were staring at them, the candlelight dancing across their features. Feeling slightly sick at meeting each of the dark, shining eyes Harry glanced up at the ceiling a habit he had acquired at home. He remembered reading somewhere that the ceiling was bewitched to look like the sky outside and he pleasantly greeted with the sight of a velvet black night dotted with stars.

Harry's attention was drawn away form the stars by the sight of Professor McGonagall silently placing a tattered wizards hat on top of a four-legged stool. Upon closer inspection the hat was more than a litter tattered, it was patched in several places, frayed at the edges and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.

__

'Perhaps we have to get a rabbit out of it,' Harry mused, it seemed reasonable. Looking around he noted that everyone was staring at the hat so he did the same shocked when it twitched and a rip near the brim suddenly opened wide and began to sing.

__

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their end.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The students and professors burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables before becoming still again.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," stated Professor McGonagall. Unraveling a long piece of parchment she began. "Abbott, Hannah!"

The girl with pig tales that Harry had seen earlier shyly stepped out of line and placed the hat on her head, which fell over her eyes, and sat down.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat. Harry winced, wondering if it hurt to have the hat yell so close to her ears. Filing away the thought he watched as she sat down at the Hufflepuff table, the Friar waving cheerfully to her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brockelhurst, Mandy!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

"GRYFFINDOR!" The table at the far left exploded in cheers and almost everyone stood up and clapped, welcoming the blushing girl to sit down. Harry's lips quivered at the sight of twin red heads cat calling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent," then became the first Slytherin.

Harry could feel the meager bits of food he had stolen at breakfast begin to churn uneasily in his stomach. The whole ordeal reminded him of being picked for teams during gym at his old school. He had always been the last to be chosen because no one wanted Dudley to think they liked him.

Absorbed in his own thoughts of ultimate failure he barely acknowledged when Justin Finch-Fletchley and Seamus Finnigan were sorted to Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. Someone next to him shifted and breaking from his thoughts he was surprised to see Draco. He had apparently edged closer and closer while everyone else was preoccupied with the Sorting. The platinum haired boy gave him a smile and a wink before turning his attention back to the Sorting. Harry likewise focused onto the sorting just in time to crack a smile at the boy named Neville as he ran back to the stool to give Morag MacDougal the hat which he had apparently ran away with.

When his name was called Draco swaggered forward easily and got his wish at once: the hat had barely touched his head when it shrieked, "SLYTHERIN!" Harry had the sneaking suspicion it was urgent to get the slicked back hair as quick and far away as possible.

Malfoy gave one last look at Harry before going to join his friends Crabbe and Goyle, looking pleased with himself.

"Moon"…,"Nott"…, "Parkinson"…, a pair of twins were next, "Patil" and "Patil"…,then "Perks, Salley-Anne"…and, then, at last-

"Potter, Harry!"

The Hall went unbelievably silent. Like a tidal wave whispers broke out like great hissing fires all over the hall.

"Did she say Potter?"

"_The_ Harry Potter?"

"Can you see it?"

"Did you see his scar?"

Everyone in the hall was leaned back in their seats, craning their necks to get a good look at him. Harry could feel himself begin to flush with embarrassment before dropping the hat over his head, the rim covering his eyes.

"Well this is interesting…hmm," said a small voice inside his ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. Talent oh yes, plenty of courage as well. Not a bad mind either. A thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…but where to put you…Slytherin perhaps. Or Gryffindor. Ravenclaw would certainly do, even Hufflepuff…"

Harry had the sickening feeling that if the hat didn't choose, Professor McGonagall would rip the hat off his head and demand he leave at once. The hat gave a chuckle.

"Maybe not as much courage as I thought," mused the Sorting hat. "Well, time will tell. For now though-better be SLYTHERIN!"

Harry winced as the hat shouted the house name to the whole hall. Taking off the hat he stood from the stool to meet the unearthly silence of the Great Hall. After handing the hat to the next boy, Dean Thomas, he set off resolutely, though a might bit shaky, for the Slytherin table. Completely aware that everyone in the Hall was staring at him he took a seat across from Draco and wished for all the world that he could be invisible. At least that was something he was used to.

The poor boy to be sorted next didn't have a clue as to what to do. He kept looking at the hat and at Professor McGonagall who was looking at who Harry guessed was Headmaster Dumbledore who was sort of in his own world. Now that he was seated Harry could see the High Table properly. Hagrid, sitting at the end farthest away from him, was quite pale and looked as if he had suddenly been thrown into another dimension and didn't know what to make of it. At the center of the table was the headmaster who had snapped out of his reverie and was looking around cheerfully, not at all concerned that the Hall was completely silent. Making a gesture with his hand he encouraged Dean Thomas to carry along with the sorting and everyone turned their eyes back to the sorting hat as it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

There were only four more people left to be sorted and after "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw is was the red headed boy's turn.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

A moment later, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Ron looked immensely happy as he handed the hat to "Zabini, Blaise," and walked briskly toward the Gryffindor table who were back to clapping enthusiastically. After Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin Professor McGonagall rolled up her list and took both the stool and hat away.

The headmaster stood up with arms open wide; he was beaming and looked as if nothing could have pleased him more than to be there at that moment with the rest of them.

"Welcome!" he said at last. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is not deemed 'Forbidden' for no reason. It is off limits to all pupil, a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Several professors' eyes were suddenly drawn to the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic will be tolerated between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch our flying director.

"And finally, I must inform you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Several students laughed but quickly quieted down at the Headmasters severe look.

"Let us eat!" said the Headmaster. Harry turned back to his empty plate to watch as mouth watering foods seemed to bloom out of nothing on the platters in the center of the table. He had never seen so many foods in one place that he liked or thought he might like: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, an assortment of chicken, pork and vegetable sausages, bacon, and steak. There were also boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, onions, mushrooms, gravy, ketchup, mustard, butter, rolls, biscuits, and, for some odd reason, peppermint humbugs.

Still feeling slightly ill from his encounter with the Sorting hat Harry ate sparingly but keeping to his habit stowed away a role of fresh bread in his pocket for later. Draco looked up from his plate, piled with food and gave him a superior smile. Leaning forward he said in a hushed voice, "What did I say? You're simply Slytherin." Finishing with a knowing wink he continued with his meal trying his best not to show his unease at sitting next to a particularly unpleasant looking ghost.

"So young Potter, what do you think about being sorted into Slytherin?" The ghost suddenly turned his attention toward the small first year and gave him a piercing look.

"What should I think?"

The ghost sneered. "Never in all my years at Hogwarts did I think that I would see the day when a _Potter_ was anywhere but in Gryffindor. To have one within our ranks is quite a phenomenon indeed.

"Much like young master Malfoy here. If he was to have been sorted into Gryffindor…" the ghost paused and an unfamiliar light came into his blank staring eyes. But then the light was gone, "One might have supposed you both, two sides of the same coin!" he murmured to himself in something barely above a whisper. "We shall have to see how this one ends." The ghost ended cryptically, gliding away towards the older students.

It was then that Harry noticed that several of the more unpleasant looking Slytherins, particularly in the higher years, kept stealing unsure glances at him, quickly looking away again and whispering furiously to each other. Two or more of them would look up at the High Table for a few moments before again looking in Harry's direction. Harry, intrigued, chanced a glance at the teacher whom they were trying to get eye contact with and was surprised to meet the black eyes of one professor immediately.

He was dark with greasy hair and a hooked nose. His eyes, black as coal with just as much fire, were boring into is own and he found himself locked in a battle of wills. Suddenly his scar gave a sharp painful prickle and he blinked, shifting his gaze to a professor wearing a strange purple turban. The professor was turned away from him, conversing with a woman wearing deep blue robes. Furrowing his brow he gripped the edge of his seat as the pain increased.

"Potter!" said a sharp voice, ripping his eyes from the turban.

"Draco?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes, what's wrong?"

Harry looked around him, several of the other first year Slytherins were giving him strange looks but he focused back on the platinum haired boy in front of him. "Nothing, I was just thinking. What were you saying?"

"We were just talking about quidditch. It's such a drag that first years can't try out for the house teams." Several other students nodded, muttering under their breaths. "I tried to bully my father into letting me smuggle my broom in, but he wouldn't let me." Draco pouted at his chocolate éclair and strawberries. Harry noted that the magnificent feast had quite suddenly transformed into desserts.

Apple pie, peach pie, nectarine sauce, orange cake, strawberries, cherry jubilee, treacle tarts, and jam doughnuts, trifle, Jell-O, rice pudding, every candy imaginable and quite a few Harry didn't recognize (which was saying quite a lot for living with Dudley). Harry noted there was an abundance of lemon sherbet candies available as well.

Soon enough when dinner and dessert had ended the headmaster stood up once again waving his hands for the students to quiet down.

"Ahem-just a few more words now that we have been fed and watered. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Now, before we totter off for bed, the school song!" cried the Headmaster. Harry noticed the other teachers' smiles had become rather frozen. All except for professor Snape of course, he was still scowling at his plate.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if trying to rid it of a fly on the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and wounds itself into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Headmaster Dumbledore quite happily, "and off we go!"

__

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

It seemed to Harry that the song had no real tune and found it highly amusing that everyone finished at different times. At long last the only people left singing were the two red headed twins who had chosen a rather slow funeral march.

"Weasleys…"muttered a boy on Harry's left. Sensing Harry's attention the boy turned in his seat, offering his hand. "Marcus Flint."

"Aren't you the Quidditch Captain?" queried Draco.

The older boy nodded, "And your prefect, don't make me take you to Snape and we'll get along fine." Harry shook his hand.

"Snape?"

"He's our head of house, that one there next to Quirrel. He teaches Potions. Genius that one. He's actually a -"

"Potions master, yes Draco told me. And Quirrel teaches Defense?" Harry gave the turban wearing professor a skeptical look. Professor Quirrel was talking to tiny man on his left but appeared to be incredibly nervous and stuttered every other word.

"He doesn't look as if he could defend himself against a Nat." Draco commented, sharing Harry's thoughts.

"He wasn't to bad the last several years we've had him, but this summer he went out into the field. They say he made enemies with a vampire and now is so scared of his shadow…well, you can see for yourself. He's developed a stutter as well. Quite twitchy too." Marcus Flint shook his head in disgust.

The Weasley twins had finally finished the school song and sat down, leaving the Headmaster to applauded enthusiastically.

"Cracked that one," said Draco.

"Ah, music," the Headmaster said, wiping what appeared to a tear from his twinkling eyes. "A magic beyond anything we teach here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Slytherin first years followed Marcus through the large double doors and up the large marble staircase. Branching off from the Ravenclaws who had come the same direction, Marcus led them through several corridors hidden behind paintings on the wall. Harry was surprised to see several portraits containing people, who moved about, waving and even talking!

Harry noted that the temperature seemed to be dropping and shivered as a cold draft of air brushed against the back of his neck. Finally they stopped in a corridor and Marcus turned to address the lot of them.

"This is the Slytherin corridor. If you take that door there at the end of the hall, go right at the first five corners and you will be at the Potions Classroom in less that four minutes. After that take two lefts and one right and you'll be at your Head of House's office. Granted there is an office in the classroom but he's usually at the latter office if classes aren't in session.

"Now, if you go through there," Marcus pointed to a painting of Salazar Slytherin. "You can get almost anywhere faster than you can say 'caught'. Salazar won't let you by unless you're a Slytherin but the Bloody Baron informs him every year so there shouldn't be a problem. Just tell him where you want to get to and he tells you the correct path. Our founder designed the whole passageway and as far as I know, none of the other houses know of it. Or," he added with a smirk, "the other professors.

"And this tapestry here," he motioned to a black tapestry behind him with green and silver Celtic knotted snakes. "Leads to our Commons Room." Lifting the edge Marcus revealed a staircase that went deeper underground.

Wrapping his robes around himself tight Harry followed Draco through a tunnel and was pleasantly surprised to see fires cackling merrily. The Slytherin common room was richly furnished with dark oak and cherry wood furniture. The floor was hardwood in places and stone in others making for a very homey, if a bit extravagant feeling. Plush carpets were decorated with snakes and Celtic knots as where the tapestries and paintings.

Two archways were directly across from each other, and in the center was another door, which Marcus told them was another entrance that led to a staircase and up towards the Great Hall. Directing the girls to the archway on the left Marcus led the boys through the archway on the right, which led to two more archways. Marcus explained that the one on the left was the baths and showers while the one on the right were the dormitories. At the bottom of the spiral staircase they found their rooms at last. There were enough rooms to accommodate two people each so Draco immediately claimed one as his and Harold's.

The rooms were well furnished. Twin four-posters hung with green velvet curtains and silk silver valences. Two delicate silver ropes opened and closed the curtains, reveling black satin sheets and pillows and a comforter that had the Slytherin crest on it.

Harry removed himself of his shoes and smiled at the pushiness of the green carpet under his feet. Seeing his trunk already next to one of the beds he sat down and tested it, smiling when it didn't creak under his meager weight. Taking off his robes he didn't bother changing into pajamas knowing he didn't have any and settled comfortably into bed.

Draco came through an adjacent doorway dressed in his pajamas, hair a little less than dignified. "We have our own bathroom," said Draco around a yawn.

Harry nodded eyes heavy with sleep, barely aware of the fact that when both were in bed the torches immediately dimmed. Drawing the curtain half way closed Harry was just thinking about what he was going to do with his piece of bread when he fell asleep almost at once.

Harry opened his eyes and found himself in the dark. Looking around he couldn't see anything but suddenly Professor Quirrell's turban was floating before him. It was talking to him about how, as a Potter, he should ask for a transfer to Gryffindor because that's where people like him belonged. Harry said that the Sorting hat had said he belonged in Sytherin so that was where he was going to stay. The turban started reeking of something quite rotten, like decomposing flesh. Harry tried to back away from the intruding odor but found that his legs wouldn't move. Startled, he watched as the turban began to slowly unwind. As it continued to unwind the turban began to laugh, a laugh that became high and cold almost insane. Suddenly, as the last bits of cloth were become unwound there was a flask of bright green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking, his scar on fire.

Sitting up Harry realized he had left his glasses on and promptly took them off, setting them on the nightstand beside his bed. Rolling over he fell asleep almost immediately, and when he awoke the next day, all he remembered was a flash of green light and nothing else at all.


	6. Chapter Six: The Potions Master

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin

Chapter Six

The next day Harry awoke to the sound of movement nearby and braced himself for Aunt Petunia's whiny voice, a sharp rap on the door and the sounds of a lock unclicking. When none of these events presented themselves, Harry cracked open an eye and stared at his surroundings in a moment of confusion. At the sounds of closing door it all came back to him. He was at Hogwarts!

Flinging open his drapes he tossed aside his warm blankets and took in a deep breath. Noting he was still wearing his clothes from the day before he grimaced and after a quick rummage through his trunk, took out his uniform. Hearing Draco's careless drawl emanating from outside their room Harry made his way to the bathroom stopping short to take in the sight.

The floor was polished marble, a soft rug next to both the shower and bath. Entering the shower he closed his eyes, enjoying the perfect water temperature. Finishing he donned his black slacks and white shirt, returning to the room he now shared with Draco.

Leaving his dirty clothes on his bed, he ran a hand through his messy black hair and left for the commons room. Draco was there; standing with a group of other first years that had been sorted the night before.

"Harold, there you are. I was wondering if you were ever going to wake up!" Draco motioned to the students he was with, "Come over and we'll have introductions."

"Hello, I'm Theodore Nott," said a boy with wavy brown hair, small ears, and a seemingly crooked smile. Harry took his hand, giving his own name to the chuckles of all those assembled.

"I think it's safe to say, Potter, we all know your name. I'm Millicent Bulstrode," said a girl who sat on one of the plush chairs. She had straight black hair and mischievous almond eyes. She smiled shyly and with the small movement Harry noticed a slightly faded scar that might have been a rather horrendus burn at one point in time.

Both Crabbe and Goyle grunted a hello, having previously met. Harry noted that they seemed quite interested in invisible specks of dust that floated right in front of them, giving them a rather glazed, cross-eyed look.

"Blaise Zambini, pleased to meet you, Harry." Came from a calm boy with a small smile and reddish blonde hair. Harry could hear the undertones of a French accent and it gave him a peculiar lisp.

"Pleasure's all mine," he responded on automatic.

"And manners to boot!" A boy with dirty blonde hair and sharp eyes stated with a wild grin.

"Terry's here?" said a girl with dark hair and distinct Scottish accent, looking around in mock confusion. "Can't understand how he got the password…"

"Get serious, Morag," a girl standing on Draco's left commented snidely. "I'm Pansy Parkinson."

"I'm Morag MacDougal." Said the girl, giving Pansy a less than decent look, "And you're serious enough for the both of us, Pansy, thank you very much!"

Pansy sniffed and folded her arms in front of her, looking away with an air of importance.

"And that leaves me! I'm Zachary Macnair." The boy who had commented on his manners shook his hand but they were interrupted by the sounds of near shouting. Harry turned wide eyes to Pansy and Morag who were throwing insults back and forth as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Slime eater."

"Muggle lover."

"Street licker."

"Gryffindor."

"That was low, you fat faced, toad kissing, Weasley second cousin!"

"At least I'm not a pickled faced, Mrs. Norris-back side-kissing, Squib-loving, muggle born!"

"Why, you!" Pansy looked furious, her hands were on her hips and her pale skin was red.

"Breakfast it is then!" announced Millicent, heading toward the tunnel exit. Draco rolled his eyes at his two friends and started for the great hall next.

"Don't mind them, Harold, they're always bickering," he whispered.

Climbing the tunnel into the light of flaming torches the group of aquainted first years came face to face with two prefects, their silver badges glinting in the firelight.

"Hello," began the left one, a short, but well built boy. "We're Slytherin's fifth year prefects, and in charge of you firsties."

"My name is 'Jasmine Macnair', and this is 'Samuel Capulet'. We help direct you to classes, and are here if you need help of any kind." Harry decided that Jasmine was a very lovely girl.

"Now, first of all: a heads up. We've added a password to the tapestry, and we also have Slytherin House Rules."

"Last evening was rather tiresome for you lot, so we decided to save this for this morning before we all went down for breakfast."

The boy's stomach gave a reproachful growl and he looked up sheepishly, "Actually, it was _she_ that decided we do this before breakfast."

Jasmine rolled her eyes and continued, "The password is, _cylicospirura felineus_. It works both on the stone wall, and the tapestry. And Sam will give you the rules."

"Mind you, they're edited seeing as how I'm missing my breakfast!

"Rule number one! We are family, as that Gryffindor lover no doubt told you when you first arrived. But there is more to a family than sharing meals, a commons room, and classes. We are united. As Slytherins we are not seen in the most friendly of light so it is imperative that we stick together. Never let a fellow Slytherin become a target. There is blood, but there is also loyalty. Once you make your ties, to break them is to bring shame to your face.

"Rule number two! Under no circumstances will you place blame, or otherwise cause harm, to a fellow Slytherin. And if at all possible. To pure bloods in general," Samuel smirked, "That is of course, exempting the Weasley clan. If you so desire of course." Samuel added hastily at the look he was getting from Jasmine.

"Rule number three! Never reveal any information to others outside your house. Rule number four, don't judge by family alone. Sure, several of us have death eaters in our line somewhere, but for Merlin's sake, that doesn't make Slytherin a Junior Death Eater Camp." Harry, as well as the other first year Slytherins, noticed with muffled sniggering, that Samuel Capulet had speeded up the run through of the rules and was, by now, talking very fast. "Rule number five, never show weakness to other houses, for obvious reasons. Rule number six, something to do with honor. And, finally, Rule number seven! Do everything in your power to win the House Cup without losing points, of course."

"Well, that about wraps it up…"started Jasmine but a loud hoot from Sam cut her off short.

"Let's eat!"

The famished group of first years cheered and followed them through the maze of corridors, not stopping until they reached the Great Hall.

"Over there, look."

"I can't see him."

"Where?"

"Scoot over."

"Next to the blonde kid."

"The short one with black hair?"

"Wearing the glasses?"

"Can you see it?"

Whispers followed Harry like a hissing fire from the moment he stepped into the Great Hall. Throughout the day people lined up outside classrooms standing on tiptoe to get a good look at him. Others would double back to pass him in the corridors again, staring.

"Great, now I'm a tourist attraction," Harry muttered under his breath. Draco glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and shrugged.

"You defeated the Dark Lord single handedly," he said simply.

"I was what, a year old? Barely even that. I can't even remember it. Watch that step, it vanishes."

The two boys hopped over the tricky step and continued their assent.

"Don't worry, they'll get over you eventually. And if not, I'm sure a few well placed threats would do the trick."

"I'm hoping it won't come to that, Dray, I just wish they'd leave me alone long enough to let me get my bearings on this place. Did you know there are one hundred and forty-two staircases? Then there is that whole business where they like to switch places every other day, hour, or person. That one that leads to the Astronomy tower disappears on Thursdays, and is replaced with one from the Second corridor on the south side. And that's not counting the hidden passageways.

"Then there are the doors! You know I spent ten minutes trying to open a door before I realized it wasn't a door at all, just a wall pretending? Honestly. Then you have to tickle them in the right places, ask politely, or wiggle the doorknob a certain number of times then count to ten and try again. I swear the coats of armor can walk. "

Draco nodded his head. "And the ghosts aren't any help either. I was on my way to transfiguration when the Fat Friar floated right through me. Nasty shocker that. Had to threaten Peeves yesterday to leave me alone. I don't see how the Baron does it."

"At least Filch leaves us alone for the most part," commented Harry.

"I heard, that wizard trash tried to get into the third corridor but was caught by Filch, has detention for a week!"

Harry gave the other boy a disapproving look at the barb but let it go.

Harry was relieved to find that not many people knew anything much about magic, and after surveying the Slytherins, that was saying quite a lot. The Potter child soon learned that Slytherin, although usually clever and sharp (both in smarts and tongue, mind you,) had built quite the reputation. And it wasn't a very good one. His first taste of house rivalry had come from a row Draco and Ron Weasley had in the fifth floor corridor. Draco of course hadn't helped at all. Was, in fact, the one who instigated the fight.

"Well well well, if it isn't Ronald the Weasel."

"Who are you?" Spat the red head, his friends on their guard.

Draco smirked, "Oh look, the vermin has bite." Crabbe and Goyle chuckled stupidly. "I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." Ron and his friends snorted. "Think my name's funny do you? Notice I needn't have asked yours. Trademarks of the Weasel clan. Red hair, hand me down robes," Draco smirked. "And enough siblings to-"

"Draco," warned Harry from behind. Draco gave him a sidelong glance and shrugged, making to turn away. Ron Weasley gave him a sneer.

"Better run back to your master Malfoy, he's calling you. Watch you don't step out of line. I thought Malfoy's had more self-respect than that. Oh wait. They never had any in the first place." Harry's eyes flashed dangerously but Draco looked murderous.

"Must be one of the side effects of inbreeding," observed the now bold, yet incredibly dense Weasley. "How else do expect them to keep 'pure' bloodlines?" The students with him snickered, except one boy in the back who just shot everyone nervous glances. Harry narrowed his gaze. Perhaps Neville Longbottom wasn't such an idiot.

Draco, having had enough of the red heads taunting drew out his wand with a sharp jerk.

"Draco, don't!" Instinctively Harry grabbed his wand arm and pulled it back gently but firmly. "It's not worth it, Dray," said Harry under his breath so only Draco could hear him.

"Quit your hissing, snakes! If you want a fight, come and get it." Harry whipped around and stalked right up toward the daft boy who refused to shut his mouth.

The red head, startled at meeting the blazing inferno within Harry's green eyes took an involuntary step back and gulped.

"Not so brave when faced with the actual thing, are you?" said Harry darkly.

Ronald Weasley looked confused but easily backed away and with a look that clearly presented his distaste, left.

Draco sheathed his wand and scowled at the retreating forms. Cocking his head at Harry, his brow furrowed and he growled, "Why did you stop me? I could have silenced that moronic piece of filth with a flick of my wand."

"And received detention as well." Harry glanced over Draco's left shoulder and back again as if looking at a speck of dust.

Draco turned sharply to watch the retreating shadow of professor Quirrell, turban looking oddly magnified with the dancing torches.

"How did you-?"

"Garlic, the fourth years were complaining that the Defense class room smells strongly of garlic. They say Quirrell stuffs his turban with it to prevent vampires from coming after him. You were all so severely distracted, nobody noticed."

"Except you."

"I hate garlic with a passion. Chalk it up to a delicate nose, whatever you like. But look out next time." Harry shrugged his shoulders and continued down the hallway, wondering if they were all late for transfiguration.

By the end of the week Harry had learned many things about the Hogwarts professors. First of all, they were all entirely different from each other.

Harry had been right on his first assessment of professor McGonagall. She was strict and tolerated no foolishness of any kind, but she was an excellent teacher all the same. The first day she lectured them on what to expect then easily turned her desk into a pig and back again. The Ravenclaws had been on the edge of their seats, but they were terribly disappointed when their lesson consisted of note taking and changing a match into a needle.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who stood on a pile of books or, at his desk, sat on a pile of pillows. He had a fluffy beard and bushy eyebrows that gave him a comical look, which was magnified by his rather excitable voice. At the start of their first class he took a roll call, but when he came to Harry's name he gave a little squeak and toppled off his perch and out of sight.

Professor Quirrell's Defense Against the Dark Arts class was a bit of a joke. As Harry had claimed, the air was thick with garlic and seemed to follow their professor even more strongly. Several students explained he was warding off a vampire he had gotten into a row with in Romania. The turban, Quirrell explained, was a gift from an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. Harry highly doubted this but, like most other Slytherins, kept his thoughts to himself.

Both boys soon found their way around the school with the help of Salazar's painting and backtracking galore, and by Friday they found themselves in the Great Hall earlier than usual. They hadn't even got lost once.

"Look out today, Harold, we have double potions with Professor Snape." Millicent Bulstrode took a seat across from Harry, handing him a copy of their daily schedule.

"Just be careful what you say, in fact, don't say anything at all unless he asks you a question." Said Draco, spooning sugar onto his porridge.

"My brother told me that Snape always likes to start the first lesson with questions, make sure everyone read through their books. He told me if I skimmed the chapters for things, all should be well." Blaise Zambini buttered a piece of toast and nibbled on the crust while deep in thought. "I was just reading about aconite when I fell asleep."

"Isn't that a bane of some sort?" queried Morag MacDougal, glancing up from her kippers.

"Yes, Wolfsbane actually." A new voice joined the conversation and Harry looked up to see the youngest Nott brother take a seat, looking uncertainly at a bowl of chocolate frogs. "I think it's also called monkhood, monkshood, or something along those lines…"

"Don't worry, Harold, Snape sticks up for his house, I'm sure it'll be all right." Pansy Parkinson, sitting across from Draco gave him a wink but Harry could still detect the minuscule twitch of her mouth. Looking around he inwardly sighed. None of the first year Slytherins where completely sure of what was going to happen, but nobody looked hopeful.

"Don't go out of line, and for Merlin's sake, don't give him reason to hate you."

"In other words, don't breathe?" Harry glanced uneasily at the Head Table relieved when he wasn't greeted with coal black eyes. Harry had an idea of how he should act. He had lived almost his whole life like that hadn't he? It would be easy for him; just pretend he didn't exist, because in their eyes, he didn't deserve to be. Silent? He would be silent all right, silent as the grave, that's what almost eleven years had drilled into him.

"Harold!" Slightly clouded green eyes met grey.

"Hm?"

"I've been trying to get your attention for the past couple minutes!"

Harry glanced around and cleared his throat quietly, "Sorry, I was thinking about something. What were you saying?"

"See, Harold, if you do things like that in professor Snape's class, you'll be done for it. It's not very Slytherin to space out like that. We're supposed to be alert, and ready. If I had been professor Snape, well, he wouldn't have been very happy." Draco gave him a piercing gaze before going back to his porridge.

Harry's head reeled and he suddenly didn't feel so hungry. _Not very Slytherin. Not Slytherin._ The green eyed boy looked at his piece of toast and pushed it away. Who was he kidding? He couldn't belong in a place like this. Not him, he was just a freak.

Soon enough the first year Slytherins were trooping down the dungeons without a second thought and maneuvering their way towards the Potions classroom. Reaching the open doors Harry noted that the Gryffindors were already seated and chattering quietly, almost to the point of silently mouthing the words. Harry wondered if they were even breathing.

"You didn't tell me it was with the Gryffindors!" He hissed at Millicent who just shrugged.

"Didn't seem important at the time, remember what we told you! Don't step out of line." She made a barely perceptible glance toward the front of the room and for the first time Harry noted the presence of the dreaded professor Snape.

Taking their places in the front, as the Gryffindors had taken all available space in the back, they took out parchment and quills, chattering away about just about anything. Unlike the rest of Hogwarts' classrooms, the Potions room didn't have desks, not counting the one at the front of the room. Instead there were rows of stands with a cauldron on top. Each stone 'table' had two wooden four legged stools. The bell rang and Harry wondered what spell they used, not seeing any bell or speaker of any kind.

At a dark look from the professor the room quieted and he took a piece of parchment from his desk and began role call. As professor Flitwick had done, Professor Snape paused at Harry's name and his soulless eyes flickered up.

"Ah, of course. Harry Potter," he said softly, "Our new-_celebrity_."

Harry glanced over his shoulder at a sniggering red head and glared. Turning back around he noted Snape had caught the exchange. Roll call continued until Snape cast aside the parchment and folded his arms and glared around the room with malevolence.

"There will be no foolish wand waving in my class, and as such I hardly expect any of you to recognize Potion making for the exact art form it is. You are here to learn the sciences of potion making, and as thick as your skulls undoubtedly are, I must be your professor.

"While many of you shall prove to be abysmal, there are a select few that hold the predisposition. For those few, I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death." There he paused and his eyes seemed to rest on Draco, but as if distracted, he looked at Harry and sneered.

"Though I doubt many of you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…"

Silence seemed to reign for eternity - like professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. Whether it was by fear or respect was still debatable.

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "Tell me, what would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's stomach clenched as he stumbled over every possible answer. He was sure he had read this somewhere, his potions text book? He looked at it uncertainly; ignoring a girl on his far right who had risen her hand to it fullest length.

__

'Asphodel root contains a component that acts as a heavy sleeping herb…' At that line of thought Harry's mind immediately jumped to a memory of Wednesday's morning Herbology class. Professor Spout, a rather squat, dumpy little witch, had been explaining the dangerous combination of different plants. And suddenly it was as clear as a blue sky in April.

"Draught of Living Death, sir?"

The tall man sneered, "Are you asking me, or telling me?"

"Telling, sir."

"And tell me Mr. Potter, what is the difference between Monkshood and Wolfsbane?"

"They are the same thing, sir," Harry's voice was slightly tinged with relief that it had been discussed at the table during breakfast. The glaring black eyes bore into Harry's skull and in retaliation he refused to blink or look away.

"And where, Mr. Potter, would you look if I asked you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry's memory flew back to his time spent at the Dursley's when he would stay up, late into the night reading from his textbooks. "In the belly of a simple animal, such as a goat."

"Well?" asked Snape, glancing around snidely, "Why aren't you all writing this down?"

Snape's eyes, not losing their intensity, flickered toward the back of the room. "Weasley, what name does Monkshood and Wolfsbane share?"

All the Slytherins, as a unit, seemed to breathe. Several gave Harry a wink and relieved grin. He had passed.

"I…I uh, I mean…er…" Ronald Weasley stuttered, taken off guard by the question.

"Oh the linguistic mastery of Gryffindors," said Snape, folding his arms, and looking pointedly at the first year red head. Several Slytherins chortled, grateful for the attention taken away from the newest member of their ranks.

"I don't know, sir," his blue eyes caught sight of Granger who was nearly standing; her hand raised to it's fullest length. He suddenly sneered. "But I do believe _she _has something to say on the matter. Though she _always_ does. Never the less, why don't you try her?" Several of the Gryffindors snickered and Harry could have sworn the professor was about to hex the lot of them. Hermione had put her hand down quietly, her cheeks flushed.

"Three points to Slytherin, Mr. Potter, for having the sense to open your text book this summer. Clearly fame isn't everything when it comes to studying." Amongst the sounds of scratching quills Snape spoke again, "And a point from Gryffindor for your cheek, Mr. Weasley. Perhaps if you didn't have such old books, you would be able to read the print clearly."

Weasley's ears turned as scarlet as his house colour, but ducked his head low under the guise of writing notes.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Professor Snape put them each into pairs and set them to mixing a simple potion to cure boils. He swept around the room in his long black robes, watching them weigh dried nettles and crush snake fangs, criticizing almost everyone except Draco, whom he seemed to favor. He was just telling everyone to look at the perfect way Malfoy and Blaise had stewed their horned slugs when clouds of acid green smoke and a loud hissing filled the dungeon. The boy named Neville had somehow managed to melt Finnigan's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who was drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, cried out in agony as angry red boils sprang up all over his arms and legs.

"I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his face.

"Take him up to the hospital wing," Snape spat at Seamus Finnigan. Then he rounded on Harry and Theodore who had been the closest to Neville. They're potion was finished and a sample had already been taken to the front of the room and placed in the special holder for first year Slytherin/Gryffindor classes.

"You-Potter-why didn't you tell him not to add the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's two points you've lost for Slytherin."

"But, sir, I-"

"A detention then? Stay after class, Potter."

Harry stared at his Head of House as he stalked away, a strange burning in his stomach making him feel slightly ill. Helping Millicent and Pansy with the rest of their potion he muttered something foul under his breath. While Millie, as she had told Harry to call her, put the finishing touches on the potion, he finished putting away his ingredients and sat down. A sharp movement in the corner of his eyes caused him to turn his head and watch Draco give the back of his godfather's head a displeased look. Both boys knew the point deduction and detention were completely unorthodox, but neither knew what to do or say.

As the Gryffindors swiftly departed, the Slytherin first years took their time, packing their things up and meandering out the door as slowly as possible. Harry, meanwhile, had approached the menacing Potions Master, standing off to the side of the desk, completely ignored.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Detention, Potter, after dinner, eight o' clock, here."

Harry nodded, grabbed his things, and headed for the door.

"Oh, and Mr. Potter?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Five points for foul language in my class. You may go."

Edited and returned: Once.

Reason: His name is Theodore not Patrick (Nott).

Courtousy of J.K. Rowling's Official Web site at [url] [/url]


	7. Chapter Seven: Detention and other Occur...

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin

Chapter Seven

During lunch Harry listened to the voices of his friends as they argued over their Head of House's attitude towards him. Even Theodore Nott, who normally didn't associate with Draco's clique, added his two cents and pondered over the possibilities.

"I'm telling you, there has to be more to this."

"I agree, there should be a reason."

"But what? How could he turn on one of his own?"

"I'll write to my father, perhaps this has to do with _The Marauders._"

For several moments no one said anything, clearly having found something to think about. A loud, high-pitched cry caused Harry to look up from his shredded lettuce and gape. Several hundred owls poured through open windows and swooped down to the four tables, some landing on shoulders, others on the table and others just dropped packages, letters, or parchment before flapping away.

Draco pointed out an eagle owl that glided toward their table, carrying a package in it's menacing talons. The goliath bird dropped the package and, after landing, stuck out its leg expectantly, revealing a letter. The platinum haired boy untied the parchment and fed the bird strips of chicken, all the while gloating about what his parents must have bought for him.

The letter was from his father, telling him to uphold the family name and stay out of trouble. The package turned out to be a box of chocolate malt sweets from his mother, bought in Sweden. The card that dropped out of the box was scented with perfume and read almost identical to his fathers'.

Nibbling on an offered candy, Harry noticed a rolled up parchment next to several of his friends. Recognising it as the Daily Prophet he borrowed it from Pansy, who was seemingly to intent on her manicured nails to care much about anything else.

**__**

GRINGOTTS BREAK-IN LATEST

> Investigations continue into the

> break-in at Gringotts on 31 July,

> widely believed to be the work of

> Dark wizards or witches unknown.

> Gringotts goblins today insisted that

> nothing had been taken. The vault that

> was searched had in fact been emptied

> the same day.

> "But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep

> your noses out of it if you know what's good for

> you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon.

Harry quietly read the rest of the article, nudging Draco when finished. "Look," he whispered, pointing to the moving picture.

"So?"

"I was there, at Gringotts, that day. With Hagrid the grounds keeper."

"That drunken oaf? What for?"

"He took me to get my school things, but that's not important. We went to _this_ vault!"

Draco peered at the picture, prodding one of the images to move away from the concealed number. Vault seven hundred and thirteen.

"Well, what was in it?"

"Just a grubby little package, nothing spectacular. Hagrid told me not to say anything, but it does seem a bit strange doesn't it?"

"I suppose," Draco skimmed the article. "I must say, Harold, you certainly do get involved in the most interesting of things."

Finishing their lunch, Harry and Draco were on their way out of the Great Hall when professor McGonagall stopped them.

"The Headmaster wishes to see you, Potter. This afternoon would be ideal, as you have no classes. Good day." It wasn't that the Head of Gryffindor was particularly unfair with Slytherins, but she was strictly professional. Harry supposed it was the same with all houses.

Before Hogwarts, Harry would have never believed another boy existed whom he hated more than Dudley Dursley. This was of course, before he met Ron Weasley. Still, the first year Slytherins only had one class with the Gryffindors, and even then Harry was under the watchful eye of the Potions Master, another being who seemed to have something against him. The Gryffindorks, as Draco liked to refer to them as, wouldn't dare try anything under the watchful eye of the Head of Slytherin House. Or at least, they didn't think until they were given their flying lesson notices. Slytherin and Gryffindor-together.

Harry, staring at the notice with disdain, almost forgot his appointment with the Headmaster, as well as his impending detention with professor Snape.

The office itself was easy to find a large gargoyle stood before him and Harry blinked at it stupidly. Professor Quirrel, who passed by several times, cast him curious looks.

"Professor?" Harry watched the shaking man pause and walk over.

"Y-y-yes, P-P-P-Potter?"

"Would you happen to know how to get into the Headmaster's office? He summoned me this afternoon, but I don't know how to get. Eh. To him?"

"Th-there is a p-p-password. It-t-t's 'P-p-peppermint H-h-humbug', I believe."

"Thank you, professor."

Harry turned away to utter the password and watch as the gargoyle jumped to life, springing aside to show a coiling staircase.

Knocking on the door as the very top, Harry heard the audible entrance command and opened the door.

The office was fairly spacious, filled with various silver instruments and hefty books. Bright colours covered the walls. Paintings, banner crests, and even some scrawled drawings from children.

"Ah! My grandchildren's gifts, from when they were young." Turning around from his silent inspection Harry was greeted by the sight of a bent old wizard with a flowing silver beard.

"Professor." He greeted in automatic, recognising the wizard from the welcoming feast.

They both took residence on either sides of the desk and seemed to study each other for a few minutes.

"Congratulations on your sorting into Slytherin, Harry."

Green eyes startled a bit at the familiarity but kept silent. "Thank you, professor. Um. You wanted to see me?"

"I wanted to know how life was going among the Slytherins? Well, I trust."

"I would suppose so, sir. Draco Malfoy has been helping me around, getting to know people."

"Very well. Are you happy, Harry?"

"Yes, sir! Very much so. I, um, am afraid I've gotten into a bit of trouble with my Head of House. He doesn't seem to. Eh. Like me very much." Said Harry sheepishly.

"Ah yes, Severus isn't much of a sociable person. But he is a good man, I believe, under all that sarcasm." The Headmaster was quite jovial and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that he was the one behind having baskets of candies at each table no matter the meal or time of day.

A scarlet bird to his right was preening his feathers, distracting Harry. Beady black eyes regarded him for a moment before he gave a sort of trill and went back to preening its feathers.

"Headmaster? What is that?"

"That is Fawkes, a phoenix that has been my familiar for many years."

"A phoenix? Aren't they supposed to be rare? How did you come across one, if I'm not being to bold, Headmaster?"

"I acquired him several years ago, not to long before you were born. I am sure that he is immensely happy that he wasn't caught on a burning day. He is usually so very testy when people watch him become born."

"Born, sir? How can-?"

The old wizard's eye twinkled and he chuckled. "A phoenix, Harry, is a very remarkable creature. Its tears are used for healing powers, and it can be reborn through ashes."

Harry wasn't sure he understood but nodded his head anyway. Something occurred to Harry quite suddenly and he cleared his throat uneasily. "Professor, when Professor McGonagall came to my house several weeks ago she mentioned something that I only just now remembered."

By now, both individuals had found a place at the large mahogany desk. Or perhaps it was oak; Harry had never been any good at recognizing the different types of wood.

"Lemon Drop?" A tin can was offered from a wrinkled hand and Harry refused the sweets. It might have been his imagination but Harry was almost certain he saw a fleeting look of disappointment cross those twinkling blue eyes but it was gone before he had a chance to look again.

"She told me that 'the headmaster had better explain', when I asked about my parent's deaths. I learned they had been…_blown up_. People call me the 'boy-who-lived' and Hagrid mentioned something about me defeating a dark lord when I was with my parents?"

The headmaster sat back in his chair, sucking on one of the bittersweet candies with a thoughtful expression on his face. "I must admit, Harry, that was my reason for summoning you. I suppose the only place to start would be the beginning." Harry had the insane urge to roll his eyes and say something snide. He bit the inside of his cheek instead. It wouldn't do to have a detention two days in a row.

"In our world, Harry, there are two types of magic. There is Light and Dark. Likewise there are two types of wizards and witches. Just as there are muggles. Can you tell me, Harry, what types these are?"

"Good and bad?" Harry tried to keep the obviousness out of his voice, he really did.

"Yes, Harry." The wizened form shifted in his seat to watch the shadows play on the wall. Harry noted he seemed to have drifted into a story mode and relaxed in his chair to listen.

"There was a wizard, Voldemort, who wanted to purify the magical world. He, as well as his supporters, believed that muggles, half bloods, and muggle borns, were unacceptable. He believed that they should be put in their place. It was his belief that the magical blood of wizards should not be diluted."

"Like Hitler?"

"I suppose. As Hitler wanted to purify the German people, so did Voldemort with the wizard. But Voldemort almost seceded."

"So did Hitler." Harry pointed out.

"But what was Hitler's downfall?"

"The war, I suppose. With the combined forces of all the armies, he couldn't have possibly won."

"You see that is where we have a difference. Voldemort's downfall did not come from a full-fledged war. It came, Harry, from you. Do you know why they call you the Boy-Who-Lived?"

"No, sir." Said Harry upon further reflection.

"Love, Harry."

"Sir?" Harry swore the old codger could illuminate the great hall with the way his eyes were sparkling.

"Your mother died, trying to save your life. Because of her death, Voldemort couldn't kill you. His curse rebounded onto himself, and you were left with a scar. Up until his downfall, anyone he went after ultimately met his or her demise at his wand. But you escaped that fate, Harry, and that is why they call you the Boy-Who-Lived."

"Hagrid said he wasn't really gone, Voldemort I mean."

"I don't suppose he is, Harry. A wraith perhaps, but still in existence if one could dare to call it life."

"Will he ever come back?"

"Perhaps, Harry, perhaps. One has only thoughts to entertain these days."

Harry thought about the Gringotts break in and what Dumbledore now had in his possession at the school.

"I do believe it almost time for dinner, and then you have an appointment with professor Snape, do you not?"

Harry mumbled an affirmative, wondering if he could get the Headmaster to counter act the detention.

"One must always learn to take the consequences that come with ones actions." Said Dumbledore, answering his unspoken question.

"Yes, sir." He mumbled. It wasn't as if he had actually _done_ anything. Existed perhaps?

"Run along then, Draco will wonder what I've done with you."

"Yes, sir."

Back in the dungeons Harry sat before the fire watching Morag and Theodore play several games of exploding snap, stopping to each play a game of wizard's chess with Millicent. Blaise came up from the boy's dormitories to watch them for a while before going to look for a book in the library.

Before long supper breezed by and Harry was making his way to the Potions Classroom.

Professor Snape was at his desk, head bent over a paper that had several red marks on it. His shoulder length black hair was slightly unkempt, hanging in his face slightly like a veil.

"Professor? I'm here for my detention, sir."

"Very well," said Snape, not looking up from his grading. "Clean those cauldrons over there, thoroughly, if you would. And no magic, Potter, you seem to be the type accustomed to muggle activities. Primitive though they may be." Harry briefly wondered what he could possibly mean by that but only gave a curt nod and headed in the direction of the collection of pewter cauldrons.

As Harry scrubbed the mess away from the cauldrons he vaguely wondered how the Slytherin Head of House could have known of his daily torture at the Dursleys. But, as he cleared away the mess of what he recognised as Seamus Finnigan's cauldron, he guessed that the professor was just making a barb for being raised by muggles. Harry felt an overwhelming dislike for the person who was responsible for that. How could he be kept from such vital information? But…how did Snape know he was raised by muggles? Harry pondered over this before he decided that once he was in his Head's good graces once again (if ever, mind you) he would ask him. Until then, he would file away the information.

Several hours since his arrival had passed by without much thought until, as Harry finished the last of the cauldrons Snape strode toward him, inspecting his handiwork as he came.

Harry had actually done quite well at scrubbing each cauldron clean, which surprised the professor, though he didn't show it of course. He had expected the boy to slack off and be more concerned at his hand's welfare than anything else. But as he inspected each cauldron carefully, he noted how they were all expertly polished.

Harry watched with trepidation as his Potions Professor neared, peering into each cauldron as he passed. Suddenly he looked up and met green eyes on black and Harry winced, expecting the same sharp pain he had experienced before.

After a moment of debate, the professor seemed unable to come up with some way of criticising and turned away to return to his desk. "You may go," said Snape with an irritated jerk of his head toward the door.

"Thank you, sir." Harry scampered out of the dank dungeon room and easily manoeuvred his way through the draughty corridors to find his commons room.

"How did it go, Harry?" asked Theodore when he stepped into the warn firelight.

"Wasn't to bad, I cleaned out the cauldrons from our potions class this morning. I think that Gryffindor, Finnigan is going to need another cauldron though." He paused and shrugged his shoulders; preoccupied with the thought of why the Potion Master's glare hadn't effected him as much as before.

Filing away the thought for later inspection he glanced around the room and sighed tiredly. "Where's everyone else?"

Nott smirked, jabbing his thumb towards the boy's dormitories. "Draco and Weasley had another row and Draco challenged him to a Wizard's Duel."

"A what?"

"A wizards duel, honestly Harry, it's depressing to think about how much you don't know. Anyway, two wizards duel each other to the death. Usually over broken trust, family, land, and things like that. Draco is a bit of a prat and volunteered you as his second. Oh sorry, forgot again. A second is someone who takes the place of the dueler in the event of his death." At Harry's stricken look he cracked a smile. "Oh, honestly Harry. You know better than that. We're eleven for Merlin's sake, the worst we could do is give someone a mild nosebleed. And that's with the killing curse alone."

"Oh." But he still looked doubtful though.

"You needn't worry though, Draco's not dumb enough to actually duel in Hogwarts. Not with the portraits and ghosts about anyway. Dumbledore has probably got loads of wards all over the place."

"But if he challenged Weasley to a duel, then why isn't he carrying through with it?"

"He isn't stupid, a little dense at times, but he's a Malfoy through and through. It's a trick, not one of his more brilliant ideas, but what can you expect? Malfoy's aren't renowned for cleverness. He told peeves, the Bloody Baron, and Filch that Gryffindor firsties were probably going to be out and about tonight."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, plopping down on the sofa across from Theodore. "Well that's a bit of a relief. I don't think I'd want to upset the professor anymore than I already have."

"Don't worry, Harry, the professor will come around eventually. As long as you prove you're Slytherin it'll all work out."

Harry shrugged and watched the flames dance merrily in the hearth. He looked up quite suddenly with a curious expression on his face, "Why do you call me Harry? Everyone else says 'Harold'."

Theodore shrugged, "Full names aren't much fun unless you're using them for intimidation. By the way, you can call me 'Theo' if you like."

"All right."

The two fell into a companionable silence broken only by the sounds of the crackling fire and other students milling about quietly.

Soon enough it was time for the two first year Slytherins to head off to their respective dorm rooms. Harry lingered outside the door for a moment, not sure about his friendship with Draco. He seemed so arrogant and proud that Harry was often reminded of Dudley. Shaking away all thoughts he slipped quietly into the room to see that Draco was asleep, yawning he slipped of his school robes, and into the four poster bed. Drawing the curtain closed his last thoughts were of how he could transfigure his hand-me-downs into pyjamas.

__


	8. Chapter Eight: Slytherin Rejection

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin

Chapter Eight

The next day was Saturday and Harry, along with the other Slytherin first years, drifted down to breakfast, wiping sleep from their eyes. Draco, who Harry had begun to see as the ringleader of his little group, leaded the way and insisted Harry walk in front with him. Harry consented uneasily but once he entered the Great Hall, cast a quick searching glance for Theo.

So caught up in his search he didn't realise they were headed in the opposite direction until he heard an angry voice interrupt his thoughts.

"Think your pretty clever, don't you, Malfoy?"

Harry quickly noted they were standing next to the Gryffindor table and several sets of eyes were trained on their small group.

"Whatever are you talking about, Weasley?" asked Draco, obviously miffed.

"You know what I mean! You challenged me to a duel, and conveniently didn't show up. Instead, Filch shows up and gives us detention!" Ron Weasley hissed.

Draco however waved his hand carelessly, "You must be confused, Weasley." A round faced boy Harry recognised as Neville had received a package and Harry noted that was what had caught Draco's attention.

The package, it turned out, was a Remembrall. Dean Thomas, the tall black first year next to Ron was slightly amused.

"When you hold it tight and it turns red, it means you've forgotten something." Harry caught the streams of words from the Granger girl just as the ball was filled with a scarlet cloud.

Malfoy, obviously interested by the artefact, snatched it from Neville's grasp and inspected it closely. Weasley and Thomas immediately jumped to their feet.

"Give it back, Draco," said Harry quielty. Draco gave him an incredulous stare before arrogantly tossing it in the air before him with a smirk.

"What are you going to do about it?" He asked confidently.

Just then Professor McGonagall swept up behind Harry and demanded to know what was going on.

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor." Said Longbottom, his voice quavering slightly.

Malfoy almost immediately dropped the object back onto the table. "I was just looking," he said in his defence stalking away scowling.

Harry gave Neville and the Professor an apologetic look before hurrying to take a seat at the Slytherin table.

"Honestly, Dray, do you have to create trouble every single day?"

The Malfoy heir gave Harry a surprised look. "They're Gryffindor's!" He exclaimed as if it explained everything.

But Harry noticed that breakfast continued with less than its usual casualness.

The days passed by quickly and before long it was Friday morning again and the first year Slytherins were talking about their upcoming flying lesson with the Gryffindors.

"It is such a drag first years aren't permitted to have their own brooms," drawled Draco as the breakfast table.

Harry, sitting between Millicent and Theo had heard this complaint many times and secretly wondered if the Malfoy heir would ever tire of his own voice. His hopes were dashed however when he went into a full account of how he had barely managed to evade being hit by a muggle helicopter. But Draco wasn't the only one with such boastful stories. As it turned out many of the first years told of such adventures to anybody that would listen. Harry, who had no such tales to tell, would listen occasionally wondering if they had an ounce of truth at all.

At three fifteen the Slytherin first years marched down the entrance steps onto the grounds and inspected each of the brooms that were set in neat lines. Immediately the students raked through them, picking and choosing the best of the whole lot, distributing them amongst themselves. Amazingly, Harry was still in Draco's good graces despite the recent spats they had been having, and was only slightly surprised when the Malfoy handed him a polished broom silently.

The Gryffindors made their appearance shortly and Harry decided it was best if he stayed as clear away from Weasley as he could.

Their flying instructor, Madam Hooch, arrived and all flying insults quickly died on the lips of both houses. She had short, slightly wild, grey hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk.

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Gryffindors, stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harry took a moment to survey the broomstick Malfoy had presented him with. It was old, but looked in better condition than most the others save Draco's.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," ordered Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'Up!'"

"UP!" chorused everyone.

Harry's broom jumped into his hand at once, but if was one of the few that did. Millie's had simply jumped up feebly before dropping back down, and Blaise's was drooping slightly. The Gryffindor's didn't have much better results. Hermione Granger's had rolled over before stilling once more and Longbottom's had merely twitched. Draco's, like Harry's, had jumped into his hand and he was looking extraordinarily pompous, as usual.

Finally, when everyone had their broom in their hand, Madam Hooch showed them how to properly mount their brooms without sliding off the end. Walking up and down the rows she paused several times to correct their grips. Ron Weasley looked positively gleeful when she told Draco he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your broom steady, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle-three-two-"

But Longbottom pushed off before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Longbottom was rising strait up like cork shot out of a bottle--twelve feet--twenty feet. Harry could see his face devoid of colour as he suddenly lost hold of his broomstick and plummeted towards the green turf.

WHAM-a sharp nasty crack reached their ears before with morbid fascination the whole group crowded around his still, whimpering form. His broomstick was still rising higher and higher, and started to drift sluggishly toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Longbottom, her face as pinched and white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harry heard her mutter. "Come one, boy-it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class.

"No one is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! If you so much as mount those brooms you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on then."

Longbottom, his chubby face tear-streaked, clutching his wrist, hobbled off with Madam Hooch, who had her arm around him.

No sooner were they out of earshot that Draco started laughing. "Did you see his face? The great lump."

Several Slytherins joined in. Harry, along with Morag and Nott who were not nearly as amused as Draco'circle, stood off to the side watching.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped a pretty little Gryffindor who reminded Harry of a Ravenclaw in their double charms class.

"Sticking up for Longbottom?" said Pansy. "Never thought _you_ went for fat little cry babies, Parvati."

Malfoy, without warning, darted forward snatching something out of the grass. "Look, it's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

Weasley and Thomas pushed their way through the crowd, demanding it. Everyone stopped previous conversations to watch.

Draco smiled nastily, "Not very polite Gryffindors are you?"

"Draco, just give them the Remembrall," said Harry, effectively shutting just about everyone else up.

"What about a game of catch first?" said Draco, mounting his broom and kicking off into the clear blue sky.

Harry, not really knowing any other course of action to take, likewise mounted his broom. After a quick, wary look towards the entrance doors, he was airborne. Up, and up he soared; his robes flared out behind him and the wind whipped against his face, stinging his eyes.

Draco hadn't lied, he _could_ fly well. Hovering level with the top most branches of an oak he called, "Not bad for a beginner, Harold."

"Must you call me that? It sound so…so formal or something." Harry complained, successfully luring Draco into an unrelated topic. "And anyway, I'm not entirely sure that's my full name. At least I hope not." Harry said, looking slightly mortified. "I'm fairly sure it's Henry or something."

"Well what am I supposed to call you?" asked Draco, puzzled.

"'Harry' if you please," said Harry.

"Well…I suppose," said Draco. Harry watched dismayed as Draco looked down at the scarlet ball still clutched in his pale fist. The young Malfoy snapped his head up at the same time the glass ball turned clear again, the scarlet cloud dispersing. "I almost forgot," he said with a smirk.

"Draco, just give it here."

"Standing up for Gryffindor's now are you?" He asked coldly.

"Standing up to prats like Weasel, but what has Longbottom ever done to you?"

"He exists." With that Draco hurled the glinting object through the air and dove for the ground again. Harry, furious and confused, tore after the object.

Leaning into his broom he flattened himself and picked up speed, with care and precision he lunged out a hand to catch the Remembrall and, flipping, came to a stop three feet about the grassy turf. With a sigh of relief that the clear ball was undamaged, he returned to the mixed sounds of the first years. The Gryffindors seemed unable to decide whether to cheer or not. And the Slytherins were giving Draco and Harry odd looks. Finally, feet planted firmly on the ground, Theo stepped forward and patted him on the shoulder.

"Nice catch, Harry."

"Thanks."

Just then the youngest Weasley stalked up glared at him. "Give it here, Potter."

"I don't think so, Weasley. I'd rather give it to someone else."

"That's a boy, Potter. I'll take it." Draco looked amazingly proud of himself for having been the one Harry chose over the Gryffindor.

"No, Draco. How about you, Granger."

Hermione Granger looked slightly surprised at being called into the confrontation. Stepping forward she gave them all a cool gaze, "Yes?"

"That dirty little witch?" Said Draco, his face looking as if he was smelling something particularly unpleasant.

Ignoring this and the dark look he was getting from Draco he held up the object. "Take this to Longbottom." The buck toothed girl took the object into her hand and consented.

Morag was about to open his mouth but a glance behind Harry silenced her. Before he had half turned around a smooth voice said, "Mr. Potter."

Suddenly feeling entirely to weak to stand the first year replied, "Yes, professor?"

Professor Snape stood a hare's breath away from him and was giving him his most loathing glare. "What did you think you were doing, Mr. Potter? Did not Madam Hooch give you strict instructions to keep both feet, firmly planted on the ground?"

"Yes, sir," Harry replied meekly.

"Did she not say you would be expelled if you were caught within the air?" Harry thought the professor looked entirely too happy.

"Faster than I could say 'Quidditch', sir." The Potions master gave him a very nasty smile.

"Is that so, Mr. Potter? Very well. Follow me." Harry, who had turned quite pale, could feel his breakfast churning in his stomach with mixed emotions as he slowly fell into step behind him.

He was going to be expelled. That was it, he was going back to the Dursleys. What would they think? What would they do if he suddenly showed up on their doorstep? Would they even let him back in? There was nothing for it. He had to run away as soon as he got on the train home. He couldn't go back. He wouldn't!

They rounded a corner and Harry could see the entrance to the Headmaster's office just ahead of him. This was it. He could feel himself lose his bearings as he trudged on. Snape, who looked as if Christmas had just come early, whispered the password and led the way up the winding staircase that appeared.

"Why good afternoon, Severus. And young Harry as well. Splendid! Lemon drop anyone?"

Both Slytherins refused and Dumbledore, after popping one into his mouth, put the tin can away and leaned back into his chair, looking at the pair expectantly.

"Well let's not dally all day then, take a seat."

Harry, feeling the fingers of doom pulling at him, obediently took a seat.

"Albus, this boy was out flying this afternoon," began Snape.

"Well that's completely natural, Severus, I do believe today is young Mr. Potter's first flying lesson." Harry gulped as he watched the ancient man run his gnarled fingers through his beard.

"Madam Hooch had instructed them not to take to the air while she escorted Mr. Longbottom to the hospital wing. She met me halfway there and told me to watch her class in her absence. What should I see when I arrive, but Mr. Potter here, doing aerial acrobatics to the delight of his house mates and Gryffindor first years! I am compelled to point out that Madam Hooch did threaten them with expulsion. The boy deserves no less."

The Headmaster had somehow tangled his fingers in his sliver white beard and was now trying to undo the mess. If the situation hadn't been so dire, Harry might have laughed. Dumbledore, seemingly have given up on his tangled fingers, peered through is half moon spectacles and smiled faintly at Harry.

"Severus? Shouldn't you be watching the first years?" Harry noted the old wizard's eyes were back to twinkling madly again.

"But, Albus, as his Head of House…" The professor began but Dumbledore headed him off.

"You are obligated to stay, but I do believe the classes for flying today were Gryffindor and Slytherin, were they not?"

Professor Snape seemed to pale and with a soft click the door shut behind him.

"Now, Harry," began the old headmaster. "Why don't you tell me what happened."

"W-well, we were all standing around waiting for Madam Hooch to come back. Er. Well you see several people were commenting about how er, dumb Longbottom was for doing such a silly thing. Er. Well, Draco, he found Longbottom's Remembrall and was looking at it and a couple Gryffindors wanted it back. But they asked really rudely and Draco well he uh." Harry stopped talking; realising that he was breaking a very important rule of Slytherins. Slytherins stuck together, they didn't tell on each other. With a mental shrug he sighed. He was going to be expelled anyway, what did it matter?

"Draco was going to put the Remembrall into a tree but I thought that was going to far. I chased him and almost got him to come back but he saw the ball had turned red and he remembered why he had taken to the air in the first place. We argued and he threw it. I went after it and when I landed, I gave it to Granger. Then Snape showed up, and here I am. When do I leave, sir?"

"Professor Snape." Dumbledore chided gently. "And what do you mean leave? Are you planning on leaving us?"

"But, Madam Hooch said we would get expelled if we went flying."

"Nonsense, what were her exact words?"

"Er, 'you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.''"

"Well, I certainly didn't hear any term of 'expulsion' in that phrase, did you?"

"No, sir, but-"

The headmaster smiled cheerily. "Well then, that settles the matter. I hope that in the future you take more care to follow the rules. They are for your own safety, you know. Well, run along now."

"Yes, sir!" Harry couldn't have left the Headmaster's tower sooner. Within minutes he was in the dungeons and reclining on a chair before the common room fire.

However, his relief was short lived. The next day word spread like wildfire that he had ratted out on Draco and the other Slytherin first years. Dumbledore had seen fit to reprimand the Malfoy and his close knit group of friends. The first day wasn't too bad. The second day was comparably worse. By the end of the week all of Slytherin had shunned him. The only people who spoke with him were Morag and Theo, but even they spoke stiffly and were quite distant. Blaise though, seemed quite amused by the whole thing and if he could be found, he would speak civilly with Harry. Though that in itself was a peculiarity as Blaise rarely spoke with anyone.

Finally giving up, Harry spent his time in the library and sat by himself in classes. Draco had actually kicked him out of their shared dormitory room. The insults had been biting but Harry was used to them, the only difference was the setting and whom they came from. Taking his trunk he had found an empty room and moved in. It was infinitely less furnished than his previous room, but it at the same time better than his room at the Dursley's.

The room was relatively small, with a single four-poster bed in the corner near an enchanted window. The furnishings were much the same, the comforter, rugs, and nights stand. One thing was different; Harry was pleased to find a small suitably sized desk near the window.

But where he found solace in the confines of his room, he found anything but in Potions. Professor Snape noticed his abandonment and with the deepest loathing he took every opportunity to humiliate, and destroy him. And with the first potion lesson since the flying lesson, Harry's fate was sealed.

"Mr. Potter! Would you care to tell me what potion you are making that would require powdered cat's claw?" Snape's voice cold and quiet broke through Harry's already shattered defences and he mumbled a reply. "What was that, Potter?"

"Cat's nap, a sedative created in the fourteenth century, sir."

"I don't recall seeing 'cat's claw' on the requirements list, Potter." With a flick of his wand Harry's potion was gone. "I believe that's yet another zero you have earned in my grade book," he said softly.

The thing that hurt the most was that 'Cat's Claw' was the most required ingredient in the potion.

The Slytherins smirked and leered at him as their Head of House moved on to criticise the Gryffindors. When class was over he was pushed and shoved in the hallways. The students in other houses either didn't care or were to afraid to go against one of the most powerful houses of the four, whatever the reason, Harry was left to his own protection. He was an open target for Ron Weasley and his own band of bullies. The older students of Slytherin had taken their Head of House's behaviour as means to go about their own way of terrorising the lonely boy-who-lived.

He no longer ate at breakfast, lunch or dinner. Instead he either showed up incredibly early or just before the food disappeared to eat discreetly on the way to class. His grades, save Potion's, improved and he found his visits to the library becoming more and more frequent. Things genuinly seemed to be settling themselves into a routine. But before long the second flying lesson was scheduled on the Slytherin notice board.

If there was anything he wanted to escape it would have been his second flying lesson. This one too was scheduled on a Friday afternoon after double Transfiguration with the Ravenclaws. The setting was almost exactly of the traitorous day the week before. The day was perfect, and after they retrieved their broomsticks, Madam Hooch was there to guide them through different manoeuvres. The Slytherins though, particularly Draco's group, would come up behind him and with a swat of his hand, send his broomstick in a whirlwind of circles. Crabbe and Goyle would take turns to sneak up from underneath him and take hold of his handle, sending him and his old broomstick flying through the air with the leverage.

Before long Harry found himself two months into the term and the Halloween feast fast approaching. Harry was still at odds with the school at large but wasn't one to give up. The mudblood Hermione was the only one who seemed to not mind him in the least. Their daily hours spent in the library was a mutual truce forged for a few hours of peace from their daily war.

WHAM. Messy black hair connected with the stone wall with a dull thud and poignant crack. Harry lay on the floor of the fifth floor corridor in a slight daze, blood was trickling from the back of his head and he winced as he looked up to catch sight of his attacker. He narrowed his eyes to clear the fuzziness around a distinct form walking away briskly. Black robes were slightly billowing with the force of each step and Harry stared at them in confusion. Snape?

Splendid, Harry thought, his vision clouding. He was going to be late for Transfiguration and as he was currently in one of the more unknown parts of the castle. How long would it take someone to find him once they discovered he was missing? His last thought of who the one in black robes had been. It couldn't have been the professor, could it? His own Head of House? Impossible. Right? Falling into unconsciousness, Harry was barely aware of approaching footsteps.


	9. Chapter Nine: Halloween Feast

A/N: Yes yes, I know! These things are incredibly boreing to read. Nethertheless! I just wanted to let you know a few things incase you get confused! I did a little research and came up with some information pertaining to the the names of Morag and Blaise, so I made the appropriate changes. Morag will now be a girl-Scottish mind you- and Blaise will be a boy- French of course. I've been outlining my story ideas for books five and six. I'm thinking Blaise will come into an imporant role in my version of book four. Anyways! I really should be paying more attention to books one and two, but I can't help myself! Changing the plots and characters all around is really much to fun! Ahem. Yes. Well...On you read...

Just to make sure you've all got it right. I've made changes from chapters five through ten. I've even added and taken away some things. Chapter eh...I can't remember which one. I think it's chapter eight. Enjoy!

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Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin

Chapter Nine

"I have never doubted that you care for your students despite their less that perfect homes and family. But for Merlin's sake you haven't even filed a Medical Report for the boy!" A female's voice huffed.

"I have been busy, woman! He seemed in fine enough health to me, so I admit it was lower on my priorities list!" A deeper voice, male, snapped.

"Oh? Have you also been to busy to at least _visit_ him?" She countered.

"He was and _is_ unconscious, what would have been the point?" He growled.

"That never stopped you before, Severus, and don't think I haven't noticed your nightly watches over every _other _Slytherin that has to stay the night! I have never been one to question your unfairness against other houses, mind you I know they need a good dose of you to balance out the school, but he's your charge!"

This accusation was met with silence and the mediwitch- there was no mistaking her sharp voice- huffed in agitation. "I've been busy lately," the distinct voice of his Head of House insisted. "If Potter has trouble making friends and keeping them, that is no concern of mine."

"Severus, he was _attacked_ in the hallway. On the way to class! Are you so blinded by a _childish_ grudge that you cannot see that the whole of Slytherin has created a vendetta against the boy? You used to provide a barrier against these attacks for your other students when it came to blows with other houses, but now you've relinquished that protection over a boy because of his father's childish delinquency!"

Harry stirred in his slumber and the two voices quieted, waiting to see if he would open his eyes. Deep within the darkness of his own mind, Harry listened for the two to continue their discussion but was disappointed when he heard a rustle of cloth and the sharp clip of boots leaving the infirmary. Drifting off into sleep his last thought was of how he had been found, or rather, by whom?

The next morning Harry opened his eyes to the blinding light of the infirmary and glared at the ceiling.

"Good to see awake at last, Mister Potter!" Greeted Madam Pomfrey cheerily. Checking his vitals she replaced the bandage on his head and nodded her head approvingly. "You'll be out of here by tomorrow I'd wager."

"Tomorrow?" he repeated as if not quite grasping the concept.

"That is if I'm satisfied by your progress."

Harry blanched. "Don't worry, I'm sure you'll be out of here by dinner at the earliest." She said after recovering from her laughter.

After Madam Pomfrey had left, Harry was served a light breakfast by a house elf and then left to his own devices. By the time lunch arrived he was bored out of his mind. His boredom however did not last long, because with the arrival of his lunch also came Morag MacDougal.

"Hello, Harry."

"Morag." He acknowledged, "What are you doing here?"

"I came to give you your missed homework." For the first time Harry noted his satchel in Morag's grasp. "And," she began but paused, unable to continue.

"I don't blame you, Morag. You didn't hit me on the back of the head."

"But I should have stood up for you. Don't hate Slytherin because of Draco."

"Who said I did? Apparently they hate me. With good reason too." Harry tacked on sullenly.

"No, not with good reason." Insisted Morag. "Slytherin is compared to so many negative things that we sometimes blur the lines between what we should or should not do. Draco went to far, but we should have seen that."

"Slytherin is ambitious." A new voice joined in; Harry and Morag turned to see Theo. "Slytherin does what it does for it's own good." He continued. " If that means ostracising one of it's own than so be it. It doesn't matter if you broke a 'Slytherin rule' or not, I doubt anybody has realised you have, if they have then they will only add it to the list of reasons to hate you."

Harry quirked a brow at the term 'list' but let him continue.

"It's all political advantage anyway. Draco's father isn't just wealthy he is a big influence in the Ministry as well. If any one of our fathers discovered that we were siding opposite of Malfoy they would be in trouble."

"Trouble?" Harry prompted.

"A lot of Slytherin is tied with the Dark Lord. There are more than just several parents who became Death Eaters during his reign. If any one of those parents were discovered they would be thrown into Azkaban without proper trial. The family would be humiliated. With a simple insinuation Draco's father could have any one of our families destroyed."

"What are death eaters?" Harry asked when the overall shock of it had worn away. He recognised the term from his second day at Hogwarts when the prefects had explained everything to the first years.

"They were servants of the Dark Lord, they bear a mark on their forearm of a skull and a snake. About here." He indicated the place on his robe.

"And Azkaban? What is that?"

"It is a horrible place, a wizards prison. The stories any wizard has heard could send shivers up your spine. They have creatures there that steal away your happiness and can suck away your soul. Dementors." He ended in a whisper.

Harry gulped. "Sounds pleasant."

"Anyone who goes there ends up going mad."

"And Draco's father has the power to send anybody's family there?" Harry remembered the arrogant man back at the train station.

Morag nodded his head.

"I think I understand now, that explains Ravenclaw as well." He said thoughtfully. "I wager Hufflepuff is just to bloody scared of me." He ended in a weak laugh. His two companions grinned.

The next morning Harry was late to breakfast again but his two friends were there waiting.

"'Bout time you got here!" Grumbled Morag.

"What? I thought you couldn't associate with me? What about Malfoy?"

Theo shrugged. "I think my father's safe enough. And Morag, well. She's Morag. The MacDougal family is out of the Malfoy range, though I think it best if we show impartiality. Our families are equal to Malfoy's we'll be fine." Insisted Theo tossing Harry an apple.

Munching on the apple Harry gave them both a doubtful look but shrugged nonetheless and the trio set off for their first class of the day.

Charms while mostly boring and severely lacking in theory made a change for the better when they walked in and were presented with their first practical.

"Now remember class. Just swish and flick! Like so! Swish and flick. And don't forget to pronounce correctly. Say it with me! _Wingardium Leviosa_!" squeaked Professor Flitwick.

"_Wingardium Leviosa_!" The room chorused.

"Very good, never forget Wizard Baruffio, who said 's' instead of 'f' and found himself on the floor with a buffalo on his chest."

The class had been largely uneventful. Mudblood Granger had managed to levitate it four feet and earned five points for Gryffindor. Soon after, Seamus Finnigan, a small boy with an Irish brogue became agitated and after prodding his feather set it aflame. Weasley had been his partner and flushing red to his ears under Flitwick's clucking, put out the small fire with his hat.

The rest of the class Harry cringed at the sound of Granger's bossy voice correctly pointing out how to perform the spell over and over and over-needless to say you get the idea-to a hapless Weasley who had turned an even deeper shade of scarlet.

"…no friends, she's a menace. 'You have to make the 'gar' sound nice and long'…" As Harry and his companions pushed their way through the crowded corridors, Weasley's voice changed pitch as he did a fairly good impression of the mudblood.

Later that day before the feast Harry noted that Granger wasn't in the library, overhearing a conversation between Longbottom and a girl named Lavender Brown he found out that she was in a lavatory not far from the dungeons. Mulling over the idea of going down to retrieve her he almost immediately discarded the thought. Wouldn't that endear him to his already hostile House mates? He scoffed.

Heading down to the Great Hall later that evening for the feast all thoughts of troublesome Gryffindors were put out of his mind. There must have been hundreds of live bats fluttering about the ceiling that swooped down in great clouds causing the candles within the great jack-o-lanterns to flicker uncertainly. When the students had all taken a seat the food once again bloomed on the empty gold platters much like it had on the Welcoming Feast, Harry's first meal at Hogwarts.

Harry had finished serving himself and was about to tuck into a particularly succulent looking potato when the doors burst open and in ran a very sweaty looking Professor Quirrel.

The whole of the Great Hall watched with rapt attention as the small jittery man stopped at the Headmaster's chair, leaning heavily over the table and rasped out, "Troll! Troll in the dungeons!" He then looked slightly detached before adding, "Thought you ought to know." He then unceremoniously sank to the floor in a dead faint.

The Great Hall burst into shouts and screams before several loud bangs brought the attention back to a very calm Albus Dumbledore.

"Prefects, please escort your Houses to their dormitories immediately!" Harry was just getting up from his seat when he realised with stunning clarity that the Slytherin dormitories were in the dungeons! However this problem was not overlooked.

"As our dear Headmaster has seemingly forgotten his darling little Slytherins, we'll go the library. But follow closely we're going another way, seeing as how the main staircase is, ah, congested." Jasmine Capulet was dictating which years went first and Harry and his friends nibbled on a few bites of their dinner as they waited patiently.

And indeed as Harry and his friends looked on, the other houses were in such a panic, they couldn't even get through the door properly.

Going through a second door they found themselves on the second floor corridor but very close to the library. A few more staircases and a very well disguised secret passage later they would be there.

Harry stopped dead in his tracks as they passed a deserted corridor. "Did you hear that?" Morag shook her head and Theo gave him a confused look.

"Hear what?" He had nicked a bowl of what looked like candied yams and was eating it quite calmly despite the tension all around them.

"I thought I heard." Harry's eyes widened. "Is the girls bathroom that way?"

"Yes, what-?" Morag was eyeing the candied yams with suspicion.

"Don't ask, I'll explain on the way!"

With that Harry and his three friends sprinted down the corridor and screeched to a halt when a shadow appeared on the corridor wall ahead of hem.

But it wasn't a prefect, rather, it was Professor Snape. He came billowing-there really was no other word for it-by and swept up a long staircase without a word.

"Strange, wonder what he's doing?" said Harry, remembering billowing black robed when he had tried to keep consciousness earlier that week.

"Shouldn't he be with the other professor's in the dungeon?" Morag's Scottish burr asked.

"He's headed for the third floor corridor." Harry observed before another noise caught his attention.

"Ugh! Do you smell that?" Asked Morag, covering her nose with the sleeve of her robe.

"Cave troll," whispered Theo.

"Blinding observation skills you've got there, Theo, blinding." Said Harry sarcastically. "Well at least it isn't in the dungeons anymore."

"Oh yea I see the advantage. Now the teachers are on a wild goose chase and the rest of the school is unarmed against it. Splendid. Why did we come anyw-" but Morag didn't get a chance to finish. A high petrifying scream broke into their conversation and all three simultaneously snapped their heads in the direction.

"That's why," pointed out Harry. "Those Gryffindor prats were insulting Granger and she's been down here all afternoon. She skipped classes for Merlin's sake! I figured we might as well tell her about the troll. Now what?"

"We aren't going in there are we?"

"Someone should go get the teachers." Said Theo. Morag was quick to volunteer.

" We might as well make sure the mudblood doesn't get herself killed." Said a resigned Theo, watching the departing back of Morag until she was out of sight.

The two remaining Slytherins entered the girls' bathroom warily, almost to the point of gagging at the nauseating smell. Turning a corner their jaws dropped and their expressions wilted.

Twelve feet tall, dull, granite grey skin, body like a boulder with a small head perched on top like a coconut. It's legs were short and thick as a tree trunk, with a ugly, flat feet. The smell was incredible. It was holding huge wooden club, which dragged along the floor because it's arms and legs seemed severely misproportioned.

Currently it was advancing on the bushy haired Gryffindor, knocking sinks off the walls as it went.

"Confuse it!" Theo said desperately to Harry who picked up a faucet and threw it against the tiny head. The troll seemed to freeze and think through the idea something had hit him before slowly lumbering around and focusing his beady eyes on Harry's still form. Blinking stupidly it hesitated before making it's way for him instead.

Theo, slightly panicked, picked up large piece of sharp porcelain from one of the many shattered sinks and launched it high into the air.

CRASH! Theo gulped as he was suddenly the attention of a half-ton magical creature. Not knowing quite what to do he watched as it lumbered toward him, raising it's arm for the kill, growling fiercely. Running around to the other side of the troll Harry did something then that was both very brave, yet incredibly stupid. He took a great leap and landed with his arms clasped around the troll's neck.

"Hit it with a spell!" He yelled to no one in particular. He suddenly felt himself lifted into the air by a massive, gnarled troll hand and shaken angrily. "Help!"

Theo, taking out his wand hesitated before calling back. "What do I do?"

"Anything!"

A moment of indecision before- "_Wingardium Leviosa_!"

Harry flinched away as the troll used one hand to heft his massive club and prepared to take a swing at him like a bat. Bracing for impact he looked up and almost laughed at the immobile piece of wood held just above the troll's reach. The troll, obviously confused looked around him for a moment before getting enough brain cells together to glance up and regret it.

WHAM. The troll crumpled under the club and Harry took a deep breath of air as he was finally released.

"Is it dead?" asked Hermione; her eyes still red rimmed and wetness on her face.

"No," said Theo. "Just knocked out. Blast! Where's Morag?" Theo was slightly disoriented and seemed to have gone into a mild bout of shock.

Harry looked down at his wand, which he had drawn out at some time and shoved up the troll's nose to distract him.

"Ugh," he muttered. "Troll snot."

He wiped it on the troll's trousers.

Standing up he realised he was shaking and Theo was still staring at the troll in amazement of what he had done.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. It suddenly dawned on them what sort of racket they had been making, of course someone downstairs must have heard the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later Professor McGonagall came bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape and Quirrell, with Morag bringing up the rear. Quirrel took one look at the troll and paled considerable, taking a seat on a toilet and clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll and inspected it shrewdly. Professor McGonagall was looking at Theo and Harry. Harry, for one, had never seen her so angry. Her lips were white and her whole visage screamed of two month's worth of detentions. If not expulsion.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Both Slytherin first years glanced at each other, both forming quick plans. "You're lucky you weren't killed. Why aren't you in your dormitory?"

Snape, standing from his inspection of the troll, had come up beside McGonagall, and gave Harry a swift, piercing look. Harry chanced a look at Morag who, tearing his eyes away from the troll, shrugged her shoulders in helplessness.

Then a small voice came from the shadows.

"Please, Professor McGonagall- they were looking for me."

"Miss Granger!" Harry thought the deputy headmistress might go into epileptic shock.

Hermione had managed to stand at last.

"I-I thought I could handle the troll on my own, you know, because I've read about them and all."

Professor McGonagall looked speechless.

"So I went looking for it but it found me. They must've heard me scream and come after me."

"The Slytherin's dormitories are in the dungeon so, to evade the crowded staircases, we went through a passageway that would lead us to the library." Was is Harry's imagination or did Snape suddenly pale and give them each a quick, calculating glance?

"We sent Morag to look for a teacher but he was taking to long and she was about to well-it wasn't good." Theo supplied.

"He means that the troll had me cornered and was about to finish me off, professor." Hermione supplied sheepishly, her face flushed with a mixture of emotions.

"Yes, well. Erm. That's about it, professors." Theo scratched the back of his head uneasily and shot his Head of House uneasy glances.

Harry was still staring at the floor but moved his gaze to the feet of his professor. The hem of his robe was pulled back slightly but that wasn't all. It was torn. Eyes slightly widened, he noted his pant leg was shredded and mangled flesh beyond that. As suddenly as he had caught sight of it just as suddenly it was gone in a veil of black. Looking up he met the gaze of his Head of House and quirked a brow. The Potions Master gave him a pointed glare and his attention returned to the conversation between the Deputy Headmistress and Hermione Granger.

"…sorely disappointed in you. How could you display such a serious lack of judgement? If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall then whirled on Theo and Harry. Morag was still hiding behind professor Snape.

"You two. Well I'll say you were lucky. Not many first years could have taken on a full grown mountain troll. Dumbledore will be informed of this." With that she was gone, storming down the corridor.

The three breathed deep sighs of relief. One professor down, one to go. It was Snape's turn.

For a long, tedious moment the greasy haired man didn't say anything but his silence was enough berating for the both of them. Relenting his imperious glare he sighed. "Five points will be taken from Slytherin for your sheer stupidity." At their crestfallen looks he continued. "Five points will be awarded to each of you for dumb luck to match! Get to your dormitories." He snapped, striding out of the lavatory after casting one last meaningful look at Quirrel.

The three flew to the first year dormitories, coming to a stop at Harry's singular room. Enjoying the rest of their feast the trio finished quickly and reclined against the bed frame in relief and weariness.

"This is one Halloween I won't be forgetting anytime soon." Theo and Harry readily agreed with Morag's declaration.

It was from that point on that Harry and his band made a truce with Hermione Granger. There are some things that you can't share without ending up holding a measure of respect for each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is certainly one of them.


	10. Chapter Ten: Quidditch

A/N: Just to give you a head's up, go back to chapter nine and read the author's note. I probably should have saved this for when I uploaded chapter eleven, but oh well. I'm much to impatient for that sort of thing. Common sense and all that rot!

I'll probably be putting one of these in chapter eleven as well, but ah well. Just skip over it. I'm off for vacation in a couple days, and when I get back I'll be gone on another trip, but I will try and upload chapter eleven whenever possible. Golley, Quidditch is a hard sport to type out, but oh well. Some of you might enjoy it. Makes me sound long winded, but oh well. Hope you enjoy!

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Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin

Chapter Ten

November turned very cold during the next few days. The mountains turned icy grey and the lake developed a thin layer of ice on its surface. The groundskeeper, Hagrid could often be seen from the windows defrosting broomsticks, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had also begun. On Saturday, the Slytherin team would be matched against Gryffindor. If they lost Gryffindor would be in first place. Harry didn't really understand the particulars of it but often heard the Gryffindor Dean Thomas compare it to the muggle game soccer.

"Don't be ridiculous!" said Morag when Harry went to her with this bit of information. "A wizards sport compared to a _muggle_ activity? That half-wit Gryffindor hasn't a clue what he's talking about. Quidditch is played on broomsticks; it has four balls and played with seven players. Don't worry you'll see soon enough on Saturday." The dark haired girl then went back to her reading.

Realising that he wasn't going to get any more information from Morag Harry checked out _Quidditch Through the Ages_ from the library and read it cover to cover. The four balls were the Quaffle, used to score points; the two Bludgers, used to create mayhem and distraction; and lastly the Golden Snitch, the smallest of the four and used to end the game giving the winning team an extra hundred and fifty points.

The players consisted of the Chasers, Beaters, Keeper, and Seeker. The Chasers were three individuals who passed around, stole, passed and scored with the Quaffle. They made points while weaving in and out of the way of bludgers and ensured that their team won the game whether or not the seeker caught the snitch.

The Beaters controlled the direction the Bludgers went. They aimed for the opposite team's three chasers in order to give their own team-mates the room and time to make points.

The Keeper watched the goal posts against the opposing team's chasers. And the Seeker spent his time trying to catch the near impossible to see Snitch.

Morag had taken to spelling several quidditch posters in his dorm room and Harry watched with amusement as the Scottish team zoomed around the open space and flashed smiles, waving enthusiastically.

Since his involvement with the mountain troll Harry's popularity marginally improved within the Slytherin House. The majority of the Slytherins-save Draco and his posse- seemed to find defeating a troll reason enough to leave him alone. Draco however had become enraged even further with this and went out of his way to find a weakness in Harry's armour.

Every morning, the sight of half-awake students eating breakfast was met with the arrival of the mail. The owls that delivered the mail were given explicit instructions to deliver the mail only in the mornings. This of course was broken occasionally when something of great importance had to be sent or received. In the mornings almost everyone got mail, the Daily Prophet itself was delivered to more or less every person, including muggle borns. Harry, though, never got any mail, and it was with this revelation that Draco found a way in.

Wednesday morning found the first years eating breakfast quietly, the rift between the two groups blindingly evident. With the customary fluttering of wings the owls swooped through an open window and glided through the rafters searching for their human. The Malfoy's eagle owl was an imposing creature with sharp talons and glowering face. It landed in front of Draco, picking up pieces of meat off of the surrounding plates. With a terrible screech it took flight and was gone.

Harry, having witnessed this spectacle many times in the company of his former comrade gave an irritated scowl after the bird that had stolen half his breakfast. His hand was halfway to the steaming plate of bacon when Draco's voice cut through his thoughts and snared his attention.

"Why don't your parents ever write, Potter? You never get any mail." Draco's false thoughtfulness grated on Harry's nerves as he tried desperately to come up with an answer. Harry mentally chided himself when he realised several minutes later that his hand remained frozen halfway to the bacon. Carefully pulling it back he met Draco's cool grey eyes.

"So you've taken a keen interest in my mail have you? How thoughtful."

"Puzzling thing is, you'd expect that the Boy-Who-Lived would get some mail…Who do you live with anyway? No one that I've heard of, shame that the Saviour of the wizarding world isn't with purebloods. Or are you?" Draco's cold voice was almost laughing at the predicament he had placed Harry in. Surrounded with people who valued purity of blood, the dark haired boy was now forced to admit he lived with half-breeds or worse, muggles. What acceptance he had gained with the troll incident could be utterly obliterated with the news that he lived with muggles. Draco was in his element.

By now several of the Slytherins were listening intently to every word and not all of them were first years. Feeling his neck begin to flush he forced himself to look away casually and take a sip of pumpkin juice. Inside his mind was panicking, did Draco know? Harry seriously doubted it but he was still faced with the idea of admitting this to the whole school, and that was not an option. Harry knew well the implications if he admitted to living with muggles, bane of Slytherin House. A quick glance at Theo and Morag revealed their own burning curiosity. Meeting Draco's own eyes he knew the pale boy was also curious as to whom the Boy-Who-Lived actually lived with.

At Harry's obvious lack of response Draco continued in his drawling tone, "No one to see him off at the train station either, usually first year parents are incredible over zealous concerning their children. Where were yours, Potter?"

"They were busy," said Harry. He was beginning to really not like the way Draco was steering the conversation. "As am I, if I were you, Malfoy, I'd spend more time finishing breakfast than sticking my nose into other people's business. Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

With that Harry made a quick retreat out of the Great Hall and fled up the stairs to Transfiguration. Later that same day Harry was sitting with Morag and Theo in History of Magic. Hermione Granger was sitting with them as well, her own classmates not finding her presence to their liking.

"So what was Draco on about at breakfast this morning?" Morag asked.

Harry sighed. "I live with my aunt and uncle. They're…" he sighed glumly, wishing this whole topic had never been brought up. "They're _muggles_." He whispered quickly. "After my parents died I guess they were the next choice." He shrugged.

Theo stared at him confusion, "But any wizard from our world would have been more than willing to take you in."

"Maybe not, whoever placed me in their care might've already tried to get me into a home."

"Who would leave a wizard child in the care of muggles? It's absurd! Any where is better than _that_." Morag seemed very insulted that her friend had been subjected to muggles at such as young age when he obviously didn't have to.

Hermione sniffed from her place at the end of the row, "_I_ live with muggles, and _my_ parents are perfectly fine thank you very much!"

"Yea, whatever." Morag muttered. "So why don't they send you mail? Even Hermione gets mail."

Hermione gave Morag an odd look. "How did you know?"

"There is no way you got this book in Diagon Alley, it's a muggle book. The pictures don't move, it's in that weird text and is published by no one in the wizarding world." Theo picked out a book from her book bag and placed it on the table.

"Oh." Hermione closed her mouth but still looked a bit put out that they had obviously been going through her things. Little dots of fury were making themselves evident on her cheeks.

Theo turned back to Harry, "So? Why don't you get mail?"

"Well, they don't like me very much. When I got the letter they were furious and even more so when professor McGonagall came to my house. They don't like magic, they think it odd and strange." Harry finally confessed.

Morag and Theo looked stunned; Hermione was scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment, trying desperately to catch up on all the note taking she had missed during their little discussion. But as the words left his mouth she too paused and gave him sympathetic look.

"Perhaps, they are afraid of what they can't understand." She said. Harry nodded his head but wasn't so sure. The Dursley's had proven that they _knew_ what magic was, Harry doubted their behaviour had anything to do with fear. Soon the subject was dropped and they listened while Binns droned on, his silver form floating in front of a large blackboard.

Harry was relieved when his friends hadn't pressed the issue. He knew they were curious but they didn't think much of it, which was what he wanted. Draco had already come to close for comfort and he didn't want anyone else to touch on the subject if he could help it.

Professor Snape wasn't making his life any easier either. The morning before the quidditch match he had limped up behind him, glowering. "I trust you will all endeavour to stay out of trouble? Slytherin can't afford to lose any more points." He had addressed the table as a whole but Harry could feel a pair of glittering black eyes drilling holes into his head.

Watching as he continued on down the line Harry growled, "I hope he trips."

"Harry, he's your Head of House!" Hermione had come over seeing as the Hall was almost completely empty except for a few scattered students. "I wonder how he got that limp." She mused.

Harry then filled her in about seeing him on their way towards the girls' bathroom. He had been heading toward the third floor corridor, Harry was sure of it.

Hermione paled, "He must've had a run in with that horrible dog! Oh, I do hope he is all right."

"Dog? What dog?" Harry and his friends listened as Hermione explained that Weasley and Thomas had been chased by Filch earlier that week and had ended up hiding behind a door. When they turned around they had seen a giant three-headed dog."

"Merlin, a three headed dog!" Morag sat back in her place her eyes wide as saucers.

Hermione nodded as if to accentuate the point.

"Maybe we should pay a visit to the professor?" Morag was studying the Head of Slytherin's back much more closely now. But Theo shook his head before the words were fully out of her mouth.

"What if there's something else going on here?" he reasoned, nibbling on a piece of toast thoughtfully.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Enough with the cloak and dagger already. Look, Theo, nobody is out to get you!"

Theo glared at him. He opened his mouth to protest but two voices interrupted.

"CONSTANT VIGILANCE!" Morag and Harry chorused, with their right hand up in the air; index finger pointing to the ceiling, righteous looks set on their faces. Several other students in the great hall turned in their seats to give them annoyed glares. They righteously leered back, making odd faces and strange gurgling noises. Hey, if the rest of the school thought they were mad, it was their solemn duty to make sure they kept on thinking it!

Growling something foul Theo threw his hands in the air in defeat and made a dramatic sigh. "What fools have I for friends!"

"Prat," Morag shoved him.

"It still remains that something else could be going on here. That dog has to be here for a reason. Flint was complaining that whatever reason the Headmaster has for blocking off the third floor corridor it must be big, or he would have warned the Prefects otherwise. I say it's guarding something."

"Why do you say that?" started Harry but Hermione was already nodding her head in agreement.

"Of course! It must be something big though, something dangerous. Remember? He said 'the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.'"

"Granger, I would think the three-headed dog would be enough of a danger!" Morag said sarcastically. "How do you know it would be anything else?"

"Why would he put a three-headed dog in a corridor in the school? And for that matter, why the third corridor in the west wing?" said Harry, causing the group to fall into silence.

After Hermione left, promising that she would come to one of them (in private mind you) if she thought of anything, the rest of the Slytherin first years puzzled over what could be going on.

Before they left to get ready for the game in their dorm rooms a school owl flew in and dropped a short note on Harry's plate. Staring at it, perplexed, Harry picked it up and opened it while his friends peeked over his shoulder.

"It's from Hagrid! He wants me to come to tea after the Quidditch match."

"You, aren't going to go are you?" asked Theo incredulously.

"Why not?" Harry had plenty to thank Hagrid for; he was after all, the one who took him to get his school supplies.

"Do you hear yourself, mate? That oaf isn't fit to have tea with. He's a drunken lout! I hear that every night he drinks, and then goes wandering about on the grounds until Filch has to take him back to his hut. That's why he lives out there, because the Headmaster doesn't want him near the students." Morag wrinkled her nose as she finished.

"But he took me away from the Dursleys, to get my school supplies and stuff. He even got me my owl, Caesar, for my birthday. I owe him at least one afternoon. Can't hurt much, can it? And besides!" he added after a moments thought, "Maybe I can get some information out of him concerning that dog and what it's guarding."

The two Slytherins pondered over it and shrugged. It was evident that there was something going on after all. Perhaps he could get some information out of him. Who would suspect the Boy-Who-Lived? And a first year no less!

Harry and his friends, minus Hermione of course, each took their seats in the Slytherin stands later that afternoon. Each wearing their school scarves, banners clutched in gloved hands. Despite the season it was quite cold and more than one person was wearing a winter cloak and hat.

Each team mounted their brooms, and after a small briefing from Madam Hooch who was refereeing the game, they took flight. Harry loved the feeling of flying on his broom, the brooms from the school shed were quite old and if he didn't choose carefully, they were liable to twitch or shake him off if he went to fast. With all fifteen players in the air the game was quickly underway and Harry quickly learned what captivated the members of his house so much.

"The Quaffle is taken first by Angelina Johnson from Gryffindor-quite a good Chaser that girl, and not a bad looker either-"

"JORDAN!"

"Sorry, Professor."

Lee Jordan, a Gryffindor that was always with the Weasley twins was doing the commentary for the match. Harry and his friends, as well as most of Slytherin House, made booing and hissing noises whenever he made a biased comment against the Slytherin team. Professor McGonagall was keeping a close watch, though Harry swore he saw her fighting a smile every once in a while.

"She's really belting along up there, a neat pass to Alicia Spinnet, a good find of Oliver Wood's, last year only a reserve- back to Johnson and – oh no, the Slytherins have taken the Quaffle, Slytherin Captain Marcus Flint gains the Quaffle and off he goes, he's going to sco-no, stopped by an excellent move by Gryffindor Keeper Wood and the Gryffindors take the Quaffle-that's Chaser Katie Bell of Gryffindor there, nice dive around Flint, off up the field and- OUCH- that must have hurt, hit in the back of the head by a Bludger- Quaffle taken by the Slytherins- that's Adrian Pucey speeding off toward the goal posts – he's really flying there- Keeper Wood dives for it-misses-, Slytherin scores."

The Slytherin stands erupted into cheers and whistles that were almost drowned in the Gryffindor's boos and howls.

"Slytherin in possession," Lee was saying amidst the mixture of cheers and wails, "Chaser Pucey ducks two Bludgers, two Weasleys, and-YES! Bludger hits the Slytherin Seeker, that's Terence Higgs, Slytherin seeker for five years, he's fallen from his broom." Harry could see the Gryffindor dancing just out of McGonagall's reach. "Flint has called for a time out. Excellent aiming by the Weasley twins, there – just joking, professor, just joking – Madam Pomfrey is down there now, looks like they've conjured a stretcher. Hold on, here's the word. Sorry mates, but it looks like the game's going to be cancelled and rescheduled. The game ends. Slytherin holds ten to one. A rematch is going to be scheduled at a later date."

The crowd watched as Terence Higgs was floated away on a stretcher and with the Slytherin team trailing after it, and Professor Snape crossing the field after them.

The rest of the day was rather sombre; Higgs had been hit rather forcefully and had broken a couple ribs and his collar bone. He was on his way to a full recovery, but until he was let out of the infirmary, the Slytherin team would have to either find another Seeker, or forfeit their next two games until the fifth year recovered.

"Oh honestly, it isn't the end of the world." Said Hermione Granger, joining them on their way back into the castle.

Morag had been particularly put out and hadn't stopped complaining that the Gryffindor twins were completely to blame. She wouldn't hear any other argument and kept ranting whenever someone tried to say anything otherwise. She seemed highly offended that Hermione couldn't grasp the importance of winning the Quidditch and the House cup.

"Well, I'm off for tea. I'll meet you in the library afterwards?" They agreed and Harry wandered across the grounds to Hagrid's hut where a tendril of smoke was rising from the chimney. He suddenly felt very alone and wondered if it wouldn't have been such a bad idea to bring someone along. Safety in numbers and all that rot.

Knocking on the door he nearly jumped back when a loud barking sounded from inside and the Hagrid's booming voice sounded. "Back, Fang, back! BACK! Oh, hullo there, Harry, come in. Don' mind Fang, he's harmless ifn' he is a bit highly strung." A large boarhound with sharp teeth was barking excitedly and Harry nervously petted his large head to placate him.

"Did you catch the game, Hagrid?" The giant of a man was ladling water from a boiling cauldron over fire into two cups and didn't answer right away.

"Yep, pity that boy got hurt like he did." Hagrid seemed to hesitate and taking a bite of one of the cauldron cakes said, "Do you like bein' in Slytherin, Harry? Does it suit you? Are they treatin' yeh good?" He seemed quite anxious about something, as if fearing Harry's answer.

Harry accepted the mug of tea and sipped it thoughtfully. "I suppose. Theo and Morag aren't so bad, but Draco hasn't been happy with me since I took Longbottom's side over his during our first flying lesson. That girl from Gryffindor, Hermione, she isn't so bad either." Harry took another sip, and accepted a cauldron cake from the heap in front of him. Hagrid took another and chewed on it for a moment.

"Malfoy's are a dangerous family, Harry, got to be careful with them lot." Harry, who had taken a bite, or rather- tried to take a bite of the rock hard cauldron cake, just nodded his head and worked his jaw for a few moments silently.

"Hagrid?" he said after a while of idle chitchat. "Have you ever owned any other animals besides Fang?" Hagrid's fascination with wild and, often times, dangerous animals had led Harry to figure out that the three headed dog had probably been his at one point in time.

Hagrid seemed delighted to tell Harry about every type of creature he had ever run across, as well as those as he had owned. "…and then of course there was Fluffy-"

"Fluffy? You had a cat?"

"Nah, cats- they make me sneeze. But fluffy warn't no cat to be sure, no Fluffy was a three headed dog. I bought him of a Greek chappie down at the Leaky Cauldron. He's quite temperamental and the only way to calm him was to play him a piece of music. He likes music; it's what led me to take up the flute. I'm quite good at it, ifn' I do so say myself." Hagrid took another cake and took a big bite of it, downing it with another sip of tea.

"Where is Fluffy now?" Harry asked, taking another sip of tea and avoiding the cauldron cakes altogether.

"Oh, I lent him to Dumbledore, wonderful man Dumbledore. You see, Lucius Malfoy- he's on the board of directors for Hogwarts see, he had a problem with my keepin' Fluffy on the grounds, so Dumbledore asked to borrow him to guard-"

Harry had unconsciously edged forward till he was at the edge of his seat, leaning in eagerly. But Hagrid seemed to think he had said to much and took another sip of tea, hastily averting his eyes from Harry's.

"Now see here, Harry, don't go tellin' every one about Fluffy. Why don't we forget this whole thing all together?" He took another cauldron cake.

"That Weasley, the tall one with blue eyes, him and Dean Thomas saw Fluffy a while ago."

"WHAT?" Hagrid seemed quite alarmed at his and his tea went sloshing around the edges of his teacup.

"Oh, don't worry, they don't know anything, but I think someone is trying to steal whatever Fluffy's guarding." Harry spoke in smooth, casual tones but Hagrid was getting more worked up by the minute.

"No need to worry about any o' that, Harry, there are plenty more things besides Fluffy, guarding the- Now see here, Harry, it's nothing to be concerned about. 'Nother cauldron cake?" Hagrid was getting quite angry, if it was with himself or with Harry, wasn't as obvious.

Something suddenly occurred to Harry. "It's that package that you took from Gringotts that day isn't it, Hagrid?" The giant man paled. "The day the same vault was robbed!" Harry couldn't believe he had forgotten about that.

"I think you best be getting' back inside Hogwarts, Harry," Hagrid's hand was shaking and he seemed very much distressed that Harry was talking so much about a topic he really hadn't wanted to discuss. "It's getting' dark out, and you'll be needin' to get inside afore curfew…"

"Snape is trying to steal that package, Hagrid! We saw him on Halloween night, sneaking up to the Third floor corridor, and later, he had a mangled bloody leg. He was trying to get pass Fluffy! What's he trying to get, Hagrid?"

Hagrid was standing now, ushering the excited first year towards the door. When Harry was outside he cut off his questions and said gruffly, " That's none, o' yer concern. Snape wouldn't want to steal the stone, he's one them protectin' it! You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's guardin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel – "

"Aha!" said Harry, "So there's a stone, and someone called Nicolas Flamel involved, is there?"

Hagrid looked beside himself. The door was promptly closed.

"Nicolas Flamel? Never heard of him, have you?" After Harry had left Hagrid's hut, he had gone strait to the library to find his friends and tell them of what he had heard. The name didn't mean anything to any of them but Hermione had gone straight to a section of magical stones and pulled out various tomes on famous wizards and witches that had created or studied different magical stones.

She didn't find much, though she came up with loads of magical properties on diamonds and other precious gems. "Did you know that the garnet has the power to cast out demons? At least I think…"she trailed off as she opened another thick book. Harry and Morag completely ignored the both of them, as Theo had taken a sudden interest in several of the books she had pulled from the shelf.

Just as Morag started to suggest they go back to the Slytherin Common room to get his chess set, Marcus Flint stepped over, glaring at Hermione. Sniffing, she put her nose in the air and carried the book she had been reading to anther desk across the room. Once she was gone he turned his look turned calculating as he studied Harry.

"You, Potter. Hooch says you're a natural on the broom. True?" Harry suspected that Marcus had a bit of troll blood in him. He had a fierce scowl and his skin was rather thick, giving him a rather bulky look.

"I gue-"

"YES!" chorused Morag and Theo, giving him meaningful looks to stay silent.

"Very well then, try outs for the Reserve Seeker are tomorrow at seven sharp. If you're not there, you won't have a chance to try out again later. This is a one-time thing, Potter, so you better be thanking whatever god is looking out for you." Madam Pince came by and gave them all a scowl for being so noisy. "Right, remember, Potter, seven sharp." And then he was gone.

Noticing that he was gone Hermione came back over, a new book was under her arm, and her nose was still in the first one. "What was that all about?" she asked absently. Without looking up from her book she made to sit down but when he had come over, Flint had moved the chair aside, leaving the spot empty. Giving a strangled yelp Theo pushed it back behind her, side stepping away quickly. Harry and Morag immediately started laughing at the red flush creeping up his neck. Marking her place with a finger, Hermione looked up and gave them all a puzzled, slightly annoyed look, "What's so funny?"

Reviews

Avemtilla: Severus just wouldn't be Severus if he wasn't the chap that he was…eh. Is!

Padawan Jan-AQ: Yeah…Isn't it a pity? I had hoped he was going to go a few more chapters without friends, but I guess we can't have everything.

Chibi Snape: I'll say!

Oh do shut up.

Guava-juice: Wow, another author alert! That makes me happy! Glad you're enjoying the fic, I hope you aren't disappointed in anything as it goes on. I seriously doubt Harry would ever become Draco's friend in any reality for the simple fact that Draco is just the wizarding version of Dudley. Only worse. It just isn't going to happen.

Blip-dragon: Thanks for your review, I'm glad you like what I've done with the characters.

HecateDeMorte: Thanks again for your review.

GeminiDragon: Yes, I suppose the truce will last. For now anyway.

Niftysweet: Thanks for your review.

Fluffylittledragon: I actually have you to thank for something. I got your review then I went on Fiction Alley and reviewed for a fic over there. Without really thinking about it, I started to review in two persona's my own and that of my own little Chibi Snape. So thanks, he's been loads of help in entertaining the authors I review for.

Chibi Snape: So that's all I am? Entertainment? You just wait…some day…some day!

Oh course, dear, now hush. You're fogging the screen again.

Eav: Thanks bunches!

Chad Simmons: I actually have a plan for a bat to make an entrance though I'm not sure which of the series to put it in. Oh well, I'll figure something out.

Azntgr01: Thanks! Yes, Snape can be such a bother sometimes.

Chibi Snape: Hey! I resent that!

You resent everything! Now, for the last time! Hush!

Linky2: Ummmm….yep. Glad you've learned to tell the chapters apart.

Kaaera: Different! Oh so VERY different!

Dius Corvus: Hm, lol. Commandeers, huh? I doubt very much anyone short of his own father and the Dark Lord could commandeer Draco.

Coriel: Updated! Glad you like it so far, hope that continues!

Dana: I actually have been considering stopping that one (Weathered Creed) altogether because when I wrote it, I was, well. There's nothing for it. I was a moron. So I'll try, but there will be a definite shift in writing ability and perhaps even plot. But I suppose I'll try to continue it.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Lunatic Broom

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin

Chapter Eleven

Sunday morning dawned with impatient words and quite a bit of shoving. Harry smacked his lips together and forced his eyes open. Weren't there wards on his door? Two blurry forms were talking about quidditch and trying to pull the blankets back from his head.

"Ge' away…"Harry muttered, pulling his pillow over his head.

"Harry, wake up! The quidditch tryouts are in ten minutes! Wake UP!" Morag had finally managed to pull the blankets from his grasp and he was unceremoniously dumped onto the dungeon floor.

"What? Quidditch? Oh no!" Harry threw his feet over the edge of his bed and started dressing in whatever his friends threw at him. A piece of toast was jammed into his mouth and he was dragged through the door and common room trying to put his shoes on straight.

Outside there was a small group of people crowded together on the quidditch pitch. As they got closer Harry could make out Draco's platinum blonde hair and several other students from different years that he didn't know. Stopping at the back of the group he could hear Marcus Flint's voice carry over various groups of whispering.

"Potter, so glad you could make it. Now, as I was saying, since there are eight of you, there will be two groups of four. The two who catch the snitch will face off in a mock game with the rest of the team. Understood? All right then, the first group is Avery, Capulet, Jasmine Macnair, Perks, and Potter. The second group is Zachary Macnair, Malfoy, Moon, Parkinson, and Zabini. Well then, let's get to it. First group in the air!"

The four students each rose into the air and waited until the snitch was released. Then delayed even more time while Flint counted to ten and released them to find the snitch, sending the bludgers loose as well. Harry soared high above the playing field and was slightly annoyed to find Avery tailing him. Deciding it was time to have some fun with the hurtling Bludgers Harry tore through the air, relishing in the wind as it blasted into his face with full force. Soon enough a Bludger was tailing after the pair, Avery to absorbed in trying to find the snitch that he was sure Potter had seen, didn't see it until…

WHAM. With a sickening crunch Avery's broom spun out of control and Harry made a sharp turn to watch him clutch a broken arm to his chest as he rapidly descended. A commotion brought his gaze up to see the other Slytherins crowing with amusement. Avery, having been disqualified, slung his comet two-sixty over his shoulder and tromped off to the infirmary, scowling into the air at Harry every few steps.

Smirking, Harry turned his school broom around and went back to his post among the clouds to continue his observation. Jasmine Capulet turned out to be the only real competition. With a temporary truce the pair pretended to both sight the Snitch and barreled toward each other the other two mock Seekers on their tale. Suddenly they both pulled out of their mock chicken game, and watched in amusement, as the two would be Seekers collided and quickly sank back to the earth and limped off to the infirmary.

Harry, still wary of the two bludgers that were still on both their tales, kept to the right shoulder of Jasmine Capulet and scanned the field for a glimmer of flying gold.

They kept at it for several more minutes when without warning Jasmine took off with a burst of flying speed and Harry trailed after her, dodging and swerving away from the two flying pieces of leather. Catching sight of the snitch Harry flattened himself against the rickety old broom and tore after it, blinking away the wetness in his eyes. The seekers were neck and neck, clutching their brooms to their chests, hands out stretched in desperation. Harry noted that they would never catch the snitch this way and recklessly veered into the other speeding broom. Jasmine let out a yelp of surprise, quickly changing directions to avoid a collision.

After giving him a particularly dirty look Jasmine swung her broom up higher to look for the snitch again. Harry, relieved that he had bought more time, dodged the persistent Bludgers and flew off to the other side of the field, amused when the older Slytherin tailed him. This amusement quickly bled into annoyance when he made random feints and she glued herself to his left, blocking off any way he could get by. Finally, fed up with the tactic, Harry aligned himself up with a speeding Bludger and let her come up behind him, oblivious to the speeding missile until with a start she realised Harry had once again dodged to the side. Turning her broom around to follow him and block him off she gave a strangled cry of surprise and pain as a Bludger connected with her stomach.

This apparently was enough of distraction because Harry was soon speeding toward the other side of the field and the other Slytherins applauded as he came back with the snitch. Jasmine grimaced but shook his hand anyway before hobbling over to the benches to sit for a while.

The other team went up next and Harry watched as Blaise Zabini's older brother, Frances, made mincemeat out of the other three players before catching the snitch. Scowling, Harry mounted his broom, not at all pleased that the other boy had managed to end the game so quickly. Marcus looked ecstatic.

"Now that we've narrowed it down to two players, this final match will decide who is the new Seeker, and who will stand double. Whenever, yes? What is it, Potter?"

"Er, I thought this was just to decide who was going to be the reserve seeker?"

Marcus gave a nasty smile. "I've changed my mind. Terrence was no where near as good as the two of you. Whoever wins next will be the Seeker and whoever loses will be the reserve until Terrence can compete for it. Any other stupid questions? All right, let's get to it then."

The rest of the quidditch team was divided equally with the reserve and normal players each making up two teams. Everyone air born, Jasmine released the Quaffle, the two Bludgers still in play. The snitch was also released and everyone zoomed around for a few moments before with a shout Marcus put the game into play.

Harry watched for a few moments from his place above everyone else, zooming out of the way whenever a Bludger was directed after him. The older Zabini was floating lazily at the other end of the field, eyeing both the Bludgers, Harry, and keeping an eye out for the snitch himself.

Pulling his broom up to circle around the field Harry caught a glint of gold and checking his opponent to find him otherwise occupied with a Bludger he tore after it. The wind whistled past his face brining tears to his eyes. Stretching out a hand he snatched it out of the air and grinned as he descended.

Back on the ground Marcus and the rest of the assembled Slytherins cheered as Harry was announced their newest Seeker. He grinned a bit sheepishly and breathed a silent breath of relief when the crowd finally let him go put the school broom away.

Changing his school robes Harry started to feel the reality seep into his bones and by the time he reached his two friends in the library he was grinning ear to ear.

"I did it!" said Harry, taking a seat across from his friends. "I'm to be the new Seeker!"

Hermione looked up from the book she was reading with a frown on her face. "What about that Higgs boy? I thought you were trying out for the reserve position?"

"I was, but Marcus couldn't pass up the chance to have both Zabini and myself on his team. He said when Terrence get's well enough, he's welcome to try and get his position back, but I don't think that will be a problem. I heard he'll be leaving the infirmary with a gimpy leg." Harry grinned despite Hermione's chastising.

"Wicked, do you know that you'll be the youngest quidditch player in a century?" Morag was leaning over her propped up elbows with a light in her eyes that only came when she was talking about Quidditch. "They usually don't let First Years have a broom, let alone play." She had a very approving look on her face.

"Yeah, about that broom thing. Are you going to use a school broom?" Theo looked skeptical.

Harry shrugged, "I guess, I suppose I'll just have to use diversion tactics and things like that. Like what I did today with that Bludger."

"You did what!" Hermione looked shocked.

"Yeah, it was so cool how you planned that out, I can't believe Avery didn't see it. You really should have been there, Granger."

Hermione sniffed. "But that's barbaric! I can't believe you would do such a thing, Harry, is he all right?"

"He's fine, I saw him in the hallway talking to professor Quirrel on the way here. Honestly, Hermione, you make it sound as if I'd personally beat him with a stick!"

Hermione opened her mouth to say something but Theo cut her off, "Granger's found something about Flamel, haven't you?"

Harry grinned as Morag gave Theo a wink.

"Well, er. Yes, yes I have." Picking up a heavy book she opened and started flipping pages. "I couldn't find it in the Magical Stones section but then I remembered this." She pointed to a page triumphantly, flipping the book around for Harry to read.

"Nicolas Flamel is noted for his advanced work in Alchemy. He is also the only known maker of the Sorcerer's Stone. 

The ancient study of alchemy is concerned with making the Sorcerer's Stone, also known as the Philosopher's Stone. It is a legendary substance with astonishing powers. The stone will transfer any metal into pure gold. It also produces the Elixer of Life, which will make the drinker immortal.

There have been many reports of the Sorcerer's Stone over the centuries, but the only Stone currently in existence belongs to Mr. Nicolas Flamel, the noted alchemist and opera lover. Mr. Flamel, who celebrated his six hundred and sixty-fifth birthday last year, enjoys a quiet life in Devon with his wife, Perenelle (six hundred and fifty-eight).

"So that's what that big dog is hiding." Said Morag when Harry had finished reading it.

"Dumbledore must have taken it to keep safe. Hogwarts is one of the most protected structures in the world you know." Hermione had taken her book back and they all sat in thoughtful silence.

"Ok, so now that we know what it is. What should we do?" Harry asked.

"No wonder the professor wants it. Pure gold and immortality. Who wouldn't want it?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Morag, Snape wouldn't steal it." Theo was worrying his bottom lip, staring off into space but Hermione was adamant. "The Headmaster wouldn't let a man like that work here, with students. He must trust professor Snape. We're not looking close enough. There must be someone else who is trying to steal it."

"Then why was he running toward the third floor Halloween night? And that limp he's got now, too. He must be after it." Morag argued. "Someone must've let that troll in as a distraction."

"Maybe he saw the distraction for what it was. Maybe he was trying to catch whoever was REALLY after the stone."

Harry shrugged. He still hadn't told them about his suspicions of who had landed him in the hospital wing. He vainly tried to argue his head of house out of the guilty chair but it was getting harder with each bit of evidence that Morag was coming up with.

"It can't be him!" Hermione said desperately. "He's a professor!" She sat back with a huff of frustration, her arms folded across her chest. She turned away from them and looked at Harry. "Well, who do you believe?"

"I really want to believe you, Hermione, but…I still haven't told you something about that time in the hallway. Right before I passed out…I saw black robes, and shoes. I'm sure they were the professor's. I don't want to believe it, but the evidence isn't in his favour." All three of his friends sat in stunned silence.

"But why would he…he hit you like that? I mean…" Theo paled significantly. "I know he hated your father, but…Harry, do you think it's safe? He's your Head of House…oh Merlin…"

Morag seemed to have caught on because she abruptly sat up straighter and shuffled her homework papers in front of her. "Then it's settled. You're not to be alone with him. Until we can be sure of his innocence."

Hermione frowned thoughtfully but agreed nonetheless. "Even if it isn't professor Snape, someone does have it out for you."

Since then Harry had always had an escort no matter where he went. It was infuriating at times but in a way he understood their point. Professor simply could not be trusted until proven otherwise. Until then they kept up their research of the Sorcerer's Stone and Nicolas Flamel. Even the most recent of Potions Magazines had articles pertaining to the stones that had been found and researched and mysteriously lost or destroyed.

Two weeks later the rescheduled quidditch match was set to play and Harry woke with a feeling of doom in his stomach. During breakfast he picked at his food and tried his best to ignore the various comments that followed him everywhere he went. Most were encouraging and congratulatory, while other insisted that they would be ready with a mattress to catch him when he fell.

"Come on, Harry, you have to eat." Hermione scolded, motioning toward his meager lunch.

"No, Hermione, I'm fine." Harry insisted, happy that his other two friends had long ago given up on badgering him about it.

"But you don't eat enough as it is!" She said exasperated. "At least eat this apple."

"No, now just leave me alone." Harry ignored the proffered apple and moved what lunch he had around his plate. He had spent the last couple days reading up on every known quidditch book ever written in history. Or at least the ones kept in the library, and that was close enough. But despite his efforts the nervous feeling only seemed to get worse. An hour later his hands shook slightly as he donned his green and sliver Slytherin robes (Gryffindor would be wearing their customary scarlet ones) and took his usual broom from the broom closet. Nervously running a hand through his already messy hair he lined up with the rest of the team behind the door leading out onto the field.

He could hear the people entering the stands and find their seats. All the voices swam together in his mind and he rubbed his stomach nervously.

"All right, you know the routine. Harry, you'll circle above the game like you've been doing, try to stay out of the way and if you can, wait to catch the snitch until it's obvious we're ahead. Careful though, the Gryffie's new seeker has a superior broom and can out fly you as well as out-maneuver.

"Adrian, remember the tactics we've been going over, and watch out for that Bell girl, she's new and has some talent and combined with that Johnson girl, we're going to have a hard time of it. Don't mind Spinnet, she's good but her main use is passing, that's where the bludgers come in…"

As Flint continued to remind each player of his or her role and specific moves they had gone over during practice Harry leaned against the wall and tried to ignore his anxiety. Soon enough they mounted their brooms and left the confines of the team strategy room.

The Slytherins whistled and cheered until, with the arrival of he Gryffindor team, the tremendous yelling and screaming by the other houses drowned out the noise. Flint and his other teammates ignored it but Harry could feel what courage had carried him that far begin to ebb away.

After Madam Hooch's customary speech to Flint about playing fare and no dirty tricks the game was on!

Lee Jordan was commentating again and covered every movement over the megaphone. Harry and the Gryffindor seeker, Matthew Cauldahan each went about their own way of finding the snitch, keeping an ear perked for the commentating.

"…And its Spinnet with the Quaffle she's going to make it- NO! Slytherin in possession, Flint passes to Pucey, now it's back to Flint, Angelina Johnson tries a running feint, here comes Spinnet again, the Slytheirn beaters have cut her off, dirty little…Sorry professor, Flint drops the Quaffle, excellent work by the Weasley twins! It's Gryffindor in possession again, and Katie Bell SCORES!"

Harry looked down to see the stands erupting in noise, the Slytherins giving them dirty looks and scowling.

"Marcus Flint is tearing up the air up there, passes to Avery, Avery dodges the Weasley twins, and Spinnet, Avery passes to Pucey, Ouch! Pucey hit with a Bludger, Gryffindor recovers the Quaffle. Pucey's still in the game, Spinnet passes to Johnson, Johnson to Bell, wow and excellent triad pass pulled off by the Gryffindor team, Flint makes a steal but it headed off by a Weasley, the Quaffle is, wait! Where's the Quaffle?"

Harry glanced at each player who likewise were looking around in puzzlement. Suddenly a swift movement caught his attention and he grinned as Pucey made the first Slytherin score.

"All right, all right, Slytherin scores. Now it's back to Johnson, but she was headed off by- wait, is that the snitch?"

In a flash Harry had turned his broom and tore after the glint of gold. He was vaguely aware of Lee's commentating as it followed the two seekers' race.

"Potter's ahead by lengths! Cauldahan will need a miracle and prayer to catch up now, Potter's almost there. Incidentally Potter is the youngest player in a century, and seems to have real talent on the broom. Pity he isn't Gryffindor, but wow, look at him go!"

Harry's eyes were slightly watering with the break neck speed but the snitch was almost within arm's reach. Stretching his fingers out he caught a swift movement on his right and quickly retracted his arms, wincing when a Bludger connected with exposed rib cage. He felt himself hit severely off course and fought to gain control of his broom again. When he stopped spinning he glanced up at a smirking Weasley twin and scowled. He had been so close!

Gathering his wits he went back to his usual place and started searching for the snitch once more, inwardly fuming.

"After that excellent hit by the Gryffindor beater, not sure who that it was up there, now it's Alicia Spinnet with the Quaffle she passes to Johnson…"

The game continued the same way for another hour, until Slytherin and Gryffindor were tied with points and Harry caught site of the snitch fluttering down by the teacher's stands. Clutching his broom tightly he raced after it, barely registering that Cauldahan was tailing him closely.

He was only a foot away from victory when for the second time that afternoon he felt his broom give a lurch. But as Harry noticed, dismayed, there was a severe lack of Bludger involved. Matthew Cauldahan hadn't noticed and raced ahead and clutched the Snitch in victory. Harry might've howled in frustration if he wasn't busy trying to get his broom back under control.

Instead of going where he directed it, the Comet 79 lurched and bucked, all the while drifting up higher until it was almost out of site of the playing field. The handle was slick with the combined wetness of mist and his own sweaty palms. Even as he began to feel his eyes water at the effort he gave a yelp of surprise when he was unseated. Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware of a crescendo of voices below him rise and fall with each failed attempt to re mount his broom.

His heart nearly lept into his throat and he forcefully gulped it back down. Now was not the time to panic! He could hear the shouts of his fellow team mates but they seemed farther than those of the Gryffindor players as they tried to duck close and grab his legs, yelling for him to let go. But what if they missed?! Didn't anyone think of that possibility? Harry sighed raggedly. After a few more failed attempts at re-seating himself on his broom he felt it give a horrible shake and he felt one of his grips loosen and fall away. This was getting ridiculous.

"Oi, Fred! Come in from the left and I'll come from the right, grab his legs!" a blur of red hair caught his attention as it barreled toward him, and glancing over his left shoulder he saw the other Weasley coming at him, a determined glint in his eye. Harry's face lost all colour.

The Weasley twins didn't in any way resemble their younger brother or their other brother, the prefect. What was his name? Peter? Pernipy? Anyway, the point was, if Harry was small for his age, the Weasley twins were large and stocky for theirs. Not that they were anywhere near Crabbe and Goyle of course, those two were in a league of their own.

It happened very quickly. The one moment Harry was entertaining visions of himself in the hospital wing, smashed flat by two Gryffindor Beaters, the next his ears were filled with a whooshing sound and an unfamiliar sense of vertigo. Cracking open an eye he didn't know he had closed he grimaced at the sight of both twins careening into each other full force. They shook it off however, each putting an amazing burst of speed into their brooms to try and chase down Harry's lunatic broom.

And then, just as quickly as it had happened, it stopped. Harry, breathing heavily from the strain of trying to cling to his broom despight everything it had put him through, looked around wildly before coming to the realisation that his broom wasn't moving. It was hovering, several hundred feet above the ground, harmless as a fly. Gently at first Harry swung his legs from side to side, before finally giving one final heave and scrambling on top.

The Weasley twins who had come to a screeching stop a little ahead of him, came back slowly.

"All right there, Potter?" One asked as he tried to fix his twisted uniform.

"Yes, thanks." He replied, wondering what had gone wrong. On a sudden impulse he glanced at the Potions Master in the teachers stands and was surprised to see him watching professor Quirrel. Strange.

All in all the whole match ended in absolute chaos.

"But his broom was faulty, the game didn't end on fair grounds!" Marcus Flint was still ranting fifteen minutes after Madam Pomfrey had deigned Harry healthy enough to evade a hospital wing visit. He could have smirked at Flint's whining tone if he hadn't agreed, but Hooch was adamant.

"Gryffindor's win stands, Flint, now run along before I dock points!" She marched by Harry, his lips drawn into a thin line.

Flint sulked by a few minutes later, his face taunt with a mix of aggravation and anger. "Good try, Potter, see about getting a new broom." With that he stalked by into the changing rooms, the rest of the team falling in line behind him. No one looked happy.

Harry grimaced. Maybe he would just change in the lavatory inside. Abruptly he realised how cowed he sounded and standing up a bit straighter he took a breath and was about to head in when-

"HARRY! Wait up!" Turning he cocked a brow at his three friends rushing at him, Theo in the lead. Coming to a stop before him Harry gave them all a minute to catch their breaths.

"We…have…to…tell…you something…"

"Couldn't this wait until after a shower and change of clothes?" He asked pointedly. Sweet Merlin, did they run all the way from the stands?

"Sorry, but we had to tell you," started Hermione in between gasps for fresh air.

"Tell me what?" Pressed Harry, shifting uneasily.

"Your broom, it's not faulty, Snape was cursing it." Hermione said in a rush. Harry blinked once. Then he blinked again.

His stomach seemed to twist in a knot and his throat tightened. "What?" He asked a bit weakly.

"_Someone_ was cursing it." Theo corrected, finally having regained his composure. Harry watched as the other boy brushed _lint_ off his robes. _Purebloods_.

"But we SAW him!" Morag said vehemently. "When you're broom went mad I took Theo's binoculars and I saw Snape muttering under his breath, his eyes never leaving you. Now I don't know about you, but if anything, Quirrel has at least been able to explain what a _curse_ is and how to perform one! Snape was doing everything, non stop muttering, and keen attention, everything!" She insisted.

"We _saw_ our Head. Of. House. _possibly_ working the counter curse. Honestly, Morag, when did House loyalty mean next to nothing to you." Theo sounded mildly disgusted.

To her credit Morag didn't outright hex Theo, but her cheeks flushed angrily and she poked his chest with each word as she stated quite clearly, "When the whole HOUSE decided to attack a FELLOW house MEMBER in the CORRIDOR." Finished she backed away and turned on Harry.

"We've got to be real careful now, Harry, now that we're sure it's the professor and all. He must know you know he's after the stone, or sees you as a threat." Hermione nodded to Morag's assessment.

"Beautiful." Stated Harry, still stunned. The professor didn't really want him dead did he? Harry wished there was evidence to the contrary but even Theo's defense seemed awfully flimsy.

Theo cleared his throat loudly. "Don't mind her, Harry, she's wrong. What would the professor possibly want the stone for? Potion ingredients if anything, and besides, do you think that the Headmaster would let him work here if he didn't trust him and all that rot?"

"That's just it!" Morag interrupted. "The Headmaster is Gryffindor, who know who he might trust!"

"Oh shut it, the both of you." Harry said, his arms crossed. "I for one agree with Theo, but Morag has strong evidence, so we'll wait on it. Now hold off, I need to put my broom away, get a shower, and change. We'll talk later, in the library."

The three nodded and moved as a unit toward the school. Harry was about to turn and leave himself when he saw two figures moving away from the stands and toward his direction. Ducking behind the shed he slowed his breathing and waited for the footsteps to pass.

But they didn't. Instead the two figures were talking in low voices just around the corner. Leaning toward them a bit Harry strained to make out the words.

"Don't think I'm not watching you." Harry unconsciously flinched away from the professor's deadly calm voice.

"W-what-t-ever d-do you mean, S-Se-Severus?" Harry might have fallen over in shock. QUIRREL?!

A sharp snap later Harry realised his Head of House had just smacked his Defense professor. Holding his breath completely he tried to bury himself into the back of the shed and closed his eyes.

_…Don't see me. Don't see me. Don't see me. PLEASE don't find a reason to come over here…_

If he could have Harry would have tried to stop his ears from hearing the ongoing conversation but the two voices continued.

"Don't lie to me, Quirrel, I know what you're doing and if you in any way value your pathetic life I would advise you to reconsider your options. Or you will need more than Dumbledore to protect you," Professor Snape hissed.

And with that they were both gone. Harry expelled a deep whoosh of air, filling his lungs while trying to make sure his legs didn't wobble everywhere.

What was THAT about? Harry wondered dazedly, putting his broom away. Maybe there was more to this. Maybe Snape wasn't trying to kill him. What had Snape said? 'I know what you're doing' did that mean Quirrel was up to something? Nervous, stuttering, superstitious Quirrel?…Weird.

Finishing a shower in the now empty Slytherin team showers, Harry dressed and returned to Hogwarts. He had about three hours until Dinner, leaving plenty of time to meet up with his friends and discuss the day's events. He wasn't, of course, expecting to run into Avery and Draco Malfoy in a deserted hallway, both with wands at the ready, and neither particularly willing to talk things over first.

* * *

Apologies

SO sorry about the long wait! I started it and then for the longest time I couldn't help but haltingly stumble through the rest of the chapter. When I reached what I had planned to be the end, I decided I hated and rewrote all of it except for the opening scene. Ergh. Anyway, I rewrote it and couldn't figure out how to end properly, so, taking the chance that I utterly botched it, I've decided to go ahead with what I've done and see how you all like it. Cheers!

_Charlie Quill_

REVIEWS

Nate: Actually, _you_ might consider re reading the books, Hagrid sits at the farthest end of the table, nearest to the Gryffindors. Third year he sits there as an actual professor. And so sorry for not spelling Gryffindor correctly, soon after I realised it I tried to fix it, but I guess I haven't got around to actually uploading the fixed chapters. Sorry about that.

May Liza: Well, I agree with you about the Weasley's, but while their relationship won't be the same as in the books, there will be one. Eventually. Don't worry.

Spectra2: Wow, thanks. Sorry it's taken SO long!

Kaaera: cackle Thanks! One of my fav parts to write actually

Blip-dragon: Welcome, and thank YOU for your review.

Starangel2106: Unerved Do you like it now? How about now? Now? Hehe, no pressure. How about now?

Tati1: Welcome, and thanks for your review. Sorry about the long update time.

Avemtilla: Hehe. Fluffy Snape? I don't think that's psychologically possible -

HecateDeMort: As always, thank you.

Fluffylittledragon: Oh boy, I'm gathering quite the collection of gold stars. Whee for me!

Skittish: Thanks!

Amy: I didn't say I was going to stop, just considering. I've been playing around with it, fixing mistakes and such. So, who knows!

Shadowface: Thanks! I'm trying to update, really! I am.

Padawan Jan-AQ: Yep, Harry just isn't Harry without quidditch!


	12. Chapter Twelve: Forbidden Acceptance

Alternate Reality: Simply Slytherin

Chapter Twelve

_Boy,_ reflected Harry dazedly, _do Slytherins take their losses to heart or what?_

Staring at the hospital wing ceiling the dark haired boy felt something wet and slimy drip down the side of his face. Pomfrey waved her wand one, twice, and gave a sharp business- like flick of her wand, shaking her head all the time.

"All right, Mr. Potter. You may go." The mediwitch ushered him out of the hospital wing's large, double doors; her large, white nurse hat blindingly white in the hospital light. As an afterthought she called out after him, "And do try to stay away until after Christmas hols!"

Shaking his head to clear away the fuzziness brought on by one of the potions he had been forced to drink, Harry muttered dark threats to an invisible Draco Malfoy and Aaron Avery. All he needed was a nice hefty curse book, several hours, and vengeance would be his. Malfoy had managed to turn his hair into squirming tentacles, and Avery had turned his skin an ugly mixture of yellow, green, and blue with a potion that Harry felt sure neither of them made themselves.

At any rate, whoever had made the potion had done a right good job of it.

The potion had turned slightly vaporous the moment it hit air and enveloped him, changing the color of his skin, tentacles, and eyes and pretty much wherever it happened to land. Madam Pomfrey had changed his skin back to its normal milky complexion, and also cleared away the extra slimy appendages. But the dye used in the potion had been taken from knotweed root and the mediwitch couldn't do anything about the new color of his eyes until she owl ordered the anecdote.

Kicking a stray piece of rock on the stone floor Harry silently fumed. Pausing by the doors of the Great Hall he considered going into dinner but decided against it. The last thing he needed was to deal with a room stuffed with his hotheaded house mates and opposing team winners. Raking a hand through his messy hair he sighed and turned away, making a straight line for the dungeons. Safely tucked away in the Common room Harry pulled out a large tomb from one the book shelves and curled up in one of the huge leather chairs, draping himself with a dark green afghan with the Slytherin crest.

Halfway down the second page the black haired boy began to slowly absorb what he was reading.

_Immortality, while never quite permanently achievable, is viable through several known methods. In 234BCE the renowned wizard Werdificus the Salubrious discovered the fifth component of Unicorn's Blood._

_Unicorn's Blood, known for it's high concentration of Validrian oil which is a prime ingredient used in sword making, the gilding of various objects, and Madam Certi's Magically Tanning Concoction which was banned in 1324 in Cuba, Russia, Germany, and Switzerland…_

Harry skimmed the next paragraph, picturing Binn's monotonous voice droning through his mind.

But, as Werdificus' son discovered, the murder of a Unicorn curses the individual to live a half life. They have no body and are driven to madness, their humanity stripped from them each time they drink from a Unicorn's Jugular…the process of collecting the Unicorn's Life blood is diagramed below. First, he knife makes a vertical cut along the neckline and… 

"EURGH!" Harry dropped the book in shock and covered his mouth, his empty stomach roiling. Collecting himself Harry picked the book up again, and swiftly turned the page, grimacing at the moving diagrams. Flipping ahead through the chapter, another passage caught his eye.

_Many wizards have studied these methods to prong long the life, but not many have succeeded in their endeavor to find the fames' Elixir of Life'. One wizard by the name of Nicolas Flamel, a noted alchemist, who has managed to create an artifact known as, not only the Philosopher's Stone, but also the Sorcerer's Stone. This artifact can prong long the life for many years, and can turn many metallic objects into gold…_

_…the theory that precious metals, such as gold, platinum, and silver, contribute to the age defying solutions was first brought to wide circles of study by the late Master De'Geregio, a Potion's Master who taught at Europe's Potion Institute, well known for it's turn out of many well respected Potion Masters. After his death his most prized student, pupil progeny S.-. Snape. But when he failed to produce viable evidence the theory was noted, and documented, but ultimately dismissed. Coincidentally, Mr. Snape eventually gave up on his Master's theory and the branch of alchemy altogether; instead, he began research on werewolves and other magical beasts. After getting the highest marks on record for the Master's test, and being the youngest one to take it thus far, Master Snape vanished from the potion's circle to attend to family matters. Later, after the fall of he-who-shall-not-be-named, Snape took the title of Professor and now teaches at Hogwarts, school of witchcraft and wizardry and is currently working on his thesis for the Wolfsbane brew, first concocted in 1723. _

_Master De'Geregio also studied seven of the ten uses for Dragon's Blood with co Master of Magic Albus Dumbledore who…_

Harry quit reading, letting the information on his head of house sink in. What did it all mean? Does this make him the one who is trying to steal the stone or not? Lost in his thoughts Harry placed the book in his bag and checked the clock on the mantle. Dinner was over and his friends were either on their way to the Common Room or the Library. Knowing that he would cross their path if he left anyway he grabbed his book bag and opened the secret passageway.

"Nice history lesson, Harry, but that still doesn't clear Snape's name."

Harry sighed and shook his head, "But listen here, it says he's studying the 'Wolfsbane brew' not alchemy or immortality! That has to count for something!"

"A ruse." Harry looked up at Morag who had her arms crossed and was giving them a cool gaze.

"What?"

"A ruse, simple as that! He's only using it as a cover, keeping his bases covered."

"This is getting ridiculous. Hermione, please tell me you don't think it's the professor?"

But when they all turned to the Gryffindor they all rolled their eyes to see her frizzy brown head over the book, her fingers thumbing through the pages. Feeling their gaze she glanced up and crinkled her brow, "What?"

Morag muttered something under her breath in which the word "Ravenclaw" was distinct. Harry asked again and she chewed her lip thoughtfully.

"I'd like to believe it sure, but think, Harry, all the evidence is pointing at him."

"But what about Quirrel?" He insisted.

"Now he _does_ put a wrench in the whole thing," Morag said thoughtfully.

Madam Pince came by then, shooing them out of the library for closing. The castle was beginning to quiet down but when Nott checked his watch they realized they were already after curfew.

"I've got to get going, if McGonagall catches us, we'll have detention for sure. Ever since I covered for you at Halloween she's been looking out for me, and not in an entirely good way. See you tomorrow then."

Once she was gone Theo turned to his companions and asked, "Shall we make a run for it then?"

"At least until we get to the dungeons, from then on we better tip toe."

"Yea, the professor has ears like a bat!"

"Well well well…what do we have here? Students from my own House, out after curfew?" The trio turned around and gaped. "Potter! I should have known you were trouble from the moment I saw you. Now, you two get to your dormitories before I take away house points. No no, Mr. Potter, you will follow me. Now!" The professor barked, glaring at the lot of them before stalking away once Harry's two companions had fled.

Harry ended up following professor Snape farther into the dungeons than he had ever gone before. Stopping outside a door the professor used a charm to unlock it and ushered him in with a dark glare. Standing before the desk Harry cringed as the door gave a sharp click behind him and his professor's shoes made short, clipping noises as he crossed his private office.

"What were you doing out of your dormitory after curfew, Mr. Potter?" The professor's voice was quiet, and when he glanced up, his gaze was as dark as ever. He swallowed uneasily.

"We were in the library doing some homework, we hadn't been paying attention to the time and we only left when Madam Pince came by and informed us she was closing the library doors.

"And what homework would have three Slytherin first years so riveted, as to. Not. Notice. The. Time?" the tall wizard demanded.

"Well…it was a mixture, sir, uh, it was eh. Research, sir. History and we met a problem that we were in disagreement with concerning morals and people. Sir." Harry really hoped he hadn't just botched something up royally.

"I shall let you go this time, Mr. Potter, but do not expect to keep up with these shenanigans any longer. I knew your father when I was in school. He was quite the rule breaker you know," he continued at Harry's hesitant nod, "You are turning out to be more like him than I would have liked. What are you being more like, boy?"

"My father, sir."

The professor leaned in dangerously close and said with menace, "And what was he?"

"A trouble maker, sir." Harry had a bad feeling in his stomach. Why couldn't he be like every one else, he wondered to himself not for the first time in his life.

Professor Snape looked immensely pleased with himself. "Very good, Mr. Potter, but that is not the only thing I brought you here for. Since I did not wish to let you impede upon my valuable time I thought I might was well drill in two lessons at once." Pulling a sheet of parchment from his desk drawer he handed it over to the small first year. "Care to explain this?"

Hesitantly taking the parchment he scanned it carefully before paling at the implications. "It has my name on it sir, but-"

"It's not your work."

Alarm bells had begun to go off in the back of Harry's mind but he replied anyway, "Well no…"

"Then you admit to your crime?" the professor's blank face had a sinister look to it.

Harry sputtered, "Crime? I didn't do anything wrong!"

"Mr. Potter, this essay is in your handwriting." Despite his face the professor's tone was deceptively soft.

"But, sir! I didn't write this!"

"I know, Mr. Potter, the reason for which you will be penalized for cheating. Did you not think I had at least _read_ the texts book which I assign? Credit me, Mr. Potter, with knowing the material I teach every day!"

"But, sir!" Harry pleaded.

"Do not presume that you will get out of this one so easily! I will deduct the proper amount of points and assign detention when I deem it appropriate. Return to your dormitories, I will not be held responsible if you are caught out after curfew a second time this evening. You may go."

Harry's voice had gone somewhere and he found it hard to force the words out, "Yes, sir." Quietly he opened but he took one step when he heard that voice again. That's what had set off the alarms. Normally, the professor's voice was sarcastic, cold, and unfeeling. This past conversations was said with a sort of…passion. A voice that was fueled with the emotion of hate. Hate for Harry.

"And do not think I will let that comment about my species earlier this evening slide either. That will make another week of detention. Perhaps I should hold these detentions till after Christmas, they do tend to mount up, don't they, Mr. Potter?"

That lump was there again. Forcing it somewhere else he took a deep, steadying breath, "Yes, sir." He said tightly. "What about Quidditch, sir?"

"I'm sure you'll find someway around the problem, if not," the professor stood from his seat behind the desk and came to the door with a vindictive smile. "I suggest you consider quitting the team."

A few minutes later Harry was down the hallway, leaning against the stone dungeon walls with a lost expression on his face.

"Perhaps Morag is right," he whispered to the silent hallways the lump in his throat sliding down his throat into his empty stomach. Sliding onto the floor he wished desperately that the manifestation of betrayal and hurt would stop making him feel sick and just come up with lunch, dry heaves, or even tears! But the persistent feeling of pain continued, he knew he wasn't sick, but he really wished he was. It would be so much better than acknowledging that he had trusted someone for once, and it had turned around on him once again.

* * *

REVIEWS! A big thanks to those of you who reviewed!

Starangel 2106: Ok, I'm going going! So…do you like it now? Huh?

Avemtilla: Fluffy Snape is just wrong. Ah well, it is possibly, despicably so, but nevertheless possible!

HecateDeMort: bows thanks!

Tati1: Actually I can, and I did! Whee! You like?

Cinammon: Wow! I liked your review, gave me warm fuzzies. Oh..wait, that was indigestion. Right. Anyway, can't really give to much info away at this point, but you've got a point about Draco. Cannon Draco at any rate. Blegh. Anyway, thanks for your review!

MerlinHalliwell: thanks! Took a lot of nights staring at my ceiling, thinking about the cannon HP universe and how I can distort it different ways. Quite the mind twisting activity

Shadowface: thank you!

Melody DeMort: 'Scuse me? Sorry, I didn't catch that fabulous review you were no doubt trying to type out, I've got you speechless. Yes, that must be it. Do try to be a shade more articulate next time. Dumbledore smile

Starlight Dreams: Oh yes, I completely understand. Poor Harry…rolls eyes…riiiiiight -

MiruSedna: Thanks for your review!

Arica, princess of Rivendell: yes, m'lady! Thanks for your review, not one to mince words are you?

Azntgr01: Thankyou for your review, was this chapter up to par?

Gual1: thank you

Colon: thanks for your reviews and advice. I'm absolutely horrid at writing, grammar, and all things English. Ah well, I am getting better. As sad as that sounds. -

* * *

A/N: Sorry it's so phenomenally short, I wanted to get this chapter out of the way and the next part didn't really mesh well with what I had originally written. Anyway, I decided to upload this and try to get some more written on my other fics, but I'm certainly not promising anything. Weathered Creed is getting a make over so…well, that sort of explains it all, doesn't it?

Oh yes, I've also got a splendid idea for another story and I've written chapter one and chapter seventeen (don't ask) but I'm afraid that by uploading it, it sort of binds me to it as well. If it sits by itself unperturbed or disturbed in my list of files then I don't have to worry about it as much. Also, I've got other stories that demand my attention, but if you guys would like to read the first chapter and possibly the second, then let me know, but be warned! It will take time away from the uploads as they are (which are few and far between as it is). I have it outlined, the chapters decided (except for the last five) and a tricky plot that took me by surprise. It will be the first of two fics, possibly three but that's still to be decided, and will most likely be the last HP fic I write for a while. If not all, then most of my other fics should be finished by the end of the year. If not, then if you are not yet acquainted with my horrendously slow uploading habits, then by the next winter holiday you shall certainly be experiencing them at full blast.

Well, that's all folks!

Charlie Quill


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